Stranger
by Impertinence
Summary: Shoko Fuyuumi is not an idiot - but maybe she'd like to be. Shoko used to know who she was, but Len is turning her into a stranger to herself, forcing her to make sense of her feelings as well as herself. Doing so, however, is neither easy nor painless.
1. Prologue of Sorts

Title: Stranger

Rating: K , pretty harmless content.

Summary: Len Tsukimori makes Shoko Fuyuumi feel things completely at odds with what she perceives to be her true self, leaving a confused Shoko to contemplate these feelings.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Ah, if only.

A/N: This is currently just a oneshot, though I may decide to go somewhere with it. It seems Len/Shoko isn't terribly popular - actually, Shoko, despite hers being an interesting character by virtue of it's open-endedness, doesn't get much attention at all - so I'm torn between the need for more of it, or letting it alone due to lack of interest. So, I guess, let me know what you think. Thanks, and happy reading.

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Shoko Fuyuumi might be shy and plain and quiet, but she was by no means an idiot. She certainly knew danger when she saw it, and Len Tsukimori had bad news stamped all over him.

Naturally, being aware of this, she applied the Rule of Three (and sometimes more, depending on the slight changes of his brow which told when he was mildly irritated – his default setting – and when he was ready to grab the nearest person and beat their head against a tree), which meant staying at least three feet away at all times.

She followed the rule religiously, and often shrank into herself and hid behind Kaho-chan when she felt particularly threatened by the tall, imposing young man. Even as she felt herself blossoming little by little, creeping out of her shell, finding the courage to square her shoulders and try new things, Len Tuskimori always managed to reduce her to the shivering, stuttering, cowering little girl she was at her worst. More than anything or anyone else she had ever encountered, he made her want to run fast and far in the complete opposite direction.

Most likely because he also drew her like nothing else.

How many times had she stood in the practice room during the concourse, her hands poised to play her clarinet, her mind just finding the right melody . . . when suddenly, she'd falter, as the thought of him raced into her head, causing her music and heartbeat to become hopelessly jumbled and discordant. How many times did she play the same notes over and over until she finally cradled her clarinet against her as she sat against the wall, leaning her head back in flustered misery. How the mere _idea_ of him rendered her completely useless, even more so than she already was! It was infuriating and terrifying and left her feeling completely hopeless.

More than anything, it left her feeling out of place. Different. Not like shy, plain, quiet Shoko Fuyuumi. Like a stranger to herself. And she could not abide that. She couldn't. She had come to terms with herself, accepted that she was the way she was, and for the most part, no matter how tempting the lure of Kaho-chan and what she represented, Shoko would always be this way. This way was what she knew best. This way, she was safe. She knew where she stood and what she was. Even against all the awkwardness and painful stumbling through everyday things, her identity was something she had confidence in, a reassuring constant.

And then she'd catch a flash of blue hair or a faint grimace or the smooth dance of his fingers and the bow across his violin, and her heart would simultaneously jump into her throat and drop to her feet, and suddenly it was as though the self she had come to know, come to terms with, had completely vacated her, leaving her a confused mass of contradicting wants and fears, completely out of her element.

Len Tsukimori made grey, colorless Shoko become any number of hues that she would rather jump in front of a moving vehicle than identify. She didn't want to know, didn't want to feel. She just wanted to be her shy, plain, and quiet self, the blush in her cheeks and the stutter in her voice induced by any common social interaction or mishap – not by the thought or sight or sound of that terrible, frightening, incomprehensibe boy. The one she wanted to slowly pick apart until she discovered and understood every inch of him.

And therein lay the problem. Shoko Fuyuumi kept things simple. She didn't go looking for trouble, she kept social interaction to a minimum, and withdrew into herself as much as she could without going crazy. She certainly did not have an irrational and almost irresistible desire to go chasing after complex, tightly locked away disasters like Len Tsukimori. At least, she shouldn't, and the fact that she did, more than she could ever explain, made her unusually furious at him for scattering her life like he had.

It made her wish that he'd suffer as she had. That he'd become a complete wreck inside. That the moment he retrieved his calm, cool exterior, someone would come along and knock it away again, leaving him confused and angry and full of feelings and impulses that people like him should never feel.

Except he was. He absolutely was. Kahoko Hino had turned Len Tsukimori into as much of a hopeless mess as he had Shoko.

Strangely enough, the knowledge that he, too, was suffering, did not make her nearly as happy as it should have.

Shy, plain, quiet Shoko Fuyuumi did not dare contemplate why.


	2. Rules Are There For a Reason

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Ah, if only.

A/N: Originally, this was going to be a one shot. I wish I could say that has changed upon request, but not really. I find myself with more free time than any decent person ought to have, and I'm starting to look forward to getting inside Shoko's head. I don't really know precisely where this will go, so it may be somewhat disorganized. I apologize, and thank you for reading anyway.

Additionally, thank you **AniMangaFrEAk19930 **for correcting me. Shoko does play the clarinet, which on some level my brain knew, but apparently not the one in charge of writing. Next I'll be saying Len plays the banjo -.-

Anyhow . . . thanks for all feedback, past and future, and enjoy!

* * *

_**Wednesday **_

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap._

The heels of Shoko's shoes clicked a steady rhythm against the sidewalk, and she breathed in the fresh air with appreciation. She did not walk often - was often afraid to, even - but today was beautiful and quiet and she felt peaceful for the first time in a while.

So she walked, and listened to the birds and the whisper of grass and the creak of quietly swaying trees. She watched the clouds drift loftily overhead, taking in the vast blue sky with pleasure. She allowed the day's lovely simplicity to draw her into it's calm spell, putting to sleep her always-racing nerves for a change. She loved days like these. The fact that they were few and far between perhaps made them all the more precious. She never failed to enjoy them, and was always sad to see them go.

Abruptly, the spell released her, and she realized someone was calling her

"Shoko-chan! Hello!" Shoko felt her face heat as Kahoko slowed from her half-run, breathing a little harder than she would have if Shoko hadn't been stupidly lost in a dream world.

"Ah, Kaho-senpai, I'm sorry . . . um, I wasn't paying attention, I didn't mean to make you run," Shoko bowed in apology, and wondered at her ability to cause trouble even as she tried to fade into the background. That was irony for you.

"No, no, it's okay - I do that all the time, too," Kahoko waved her hand dismissively and smiled, tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear. "It's been a while since we talked . . . I miss everyone from the concourse a lot sometimes. How have you been?"

_Miserable._She had the strangest urge to tell the older girl all about her bizarre, painful emotions as of late, to ask her advice on what to do about it. Shoko certainly didn't know; Shoko didn't know anything but fading into the background and living through her clarinet.

She didn't dare, however. She could never burden Kaho-senpai with her silly problems. The confident, compassionate redhead would probably gladly listen, but Shoko didn't feel comfortable enough to confide all of the craziness going on within. Not to mention how Kahoko might react to it . . . What if . . .

"I'm really well. Thank you, Kaho-senpai . . . I'm glad to talk to you again," she said instead, which was the truth. Just being near Kahoko made her - and probably everyone else - feel more at peace and content. Nonetheless, the usual red tint crept into her cheeks, and she couldn't find the will to look anywhere but her feet as she said it. In her head it had sounded acceptable, but out loud, she was sure it made her sound like she'd been starving for human companionship.

Shoko almost sighed aloud. She'd never had a way with words. For that matter, except for her clarinet, she'd never had a way with anything. But Kaho-senpai just smiled in that genuinely happy way that made one feel not quite so worthless, and the tide of embarrassment slowly receded.

"Me too. It's been a little lonely since it ended . . . Ah, I do have my Gen Ed friends, and I love them, but I felt like everyone in the concourse was really starting to connect. Or maybe it was just me being sentimental," she laughed, but the glow in her eyes held. "Music is amazing like that . . . it can bring people who are so different onto the same wavelength . . . except, maybe, for Tsuchiura-kun and Tsukimori-kun," she finished, her brow wrinkling a little as she recalled their inability to get along well.

Shoko, however, shivered, and not from the breeze. _How was that fair_? she wondered. The sound of his name, from anyone's lips, for any reason, seemed to send chills tickling across her skin. Irrational. It was almost as bad as the warmth that followed along with his image.

"Are you alright, Shoko-chan? You looked cold for a second . . . and you're flushed, even though it's so pleasant. You're not catching a cold, are you?" Kahoko glanced at her, concern shadowing her eyes as she observed Shoko's flushed cheeks and the hazy, distracted look in her eyes.

"Something like that," she mumbled.

"Sorry, what?" Kahoko looked at her expectantly, and Shoko smiled guiltily, fiddling with her clarinet case.

"I'm so sorry, Kaho-senpai. I haven't been feeling well lately . . . I was going to go home and take a nap, to see if it will help me feel better," she said.

"That's terrible - colds are the worst, especially when the weather is so nice. Ah, would you like me to walk home with you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Shoko ducked her head in embarrassment at Kahoko's show of concern. Kahoko-senpai was so kind. Could offer to help, and would even be able to. Not like Shoko. Shoko wouldn't dare extend assistance, for she'd only make things difficult.

"No . . . that's alright, Kaho-senpai. Um, thank you, though! I . . . it's so nice of you," Shoko struggled with the words. She probably sounded ungrateful, when she was more grateful to Kahoko than she could ever say. She just didn't know how to handle things like this. Didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. Typical Shoko. "But I think I'll be able to get home okay, I'm not really sick, I just haven't been . . . I'm not at my best lately," she finished, her words quieting toward the end. A flicker of something indecipherable in Kahoko's eyes, then an understanding smile.

"I know, I have times like that, too. Well, I turn here, so if you're sure you'll be okay, then I guess I should get home. Maybe, though, we should do something sometime," Kahoko shifted, her hand going to the back of her head in that way of hers when she was feeling awkward, but the crooked half-smile/half-laugh that followed let on that she did feel uncomfortable, but reacted towards it with a playful self-deprecation that left Shoko green with envy. Kahoko was unashamed of her shame, whereas Shoko's just built and built until her insides felt sick and torn and she wanted to disappear with resenting herself for being this way.

"Um, if you aren't too busy, then if it isn't trouble, I would like that very much . . . ah, but I don't know what we'd do," Shoko realized, her ignorance of Kahoko's interests dawning on her. _Well done_, she congratulated herself miserably. _Here is a person you admire so much, and sometimes tentatively dare to call a friend, yet you don't even know what she likes._

"Oh - I guess the usual stuff. I hadn't really thought about it. But whatever you want to do, Shoko-chan - the point is to spend time with people you like, so I think it doesn't matter," she said thoughtfully, her index finger resting on her chin as she considered it. "If you're with a friend, things you don't usually enjoy will be way more fun."

_Take this for example_, Shoko thought wryly - _conversation_. She wouldn't call it fun yet, but Kahoko being the one she was talking to certainly made it better. She smiled.

"I guess you're right . . . then, if you wouldn't mind, I hope we can," she said honestly. Honesty. A precious thing. To find the words you mean to say, and to say them. Not just stumbling along with the easiest, expected course. Another thing that Kahoko, unconsciously honest Kahoko, had taught her, but that Shoko had failed to learn, too afraid to abandon the person she'd come to believe herself to be, even if it was one she constantly found fault with. It was still her. It wasn't an easy thing to just throw that away and try something new. More often than not, it didn't work and you were left somewhere in the middle, suddenly unaware of who you were. And that was a feeling Shoko had begun to know, and one she knew she needed to avoid.

Her smile weakened even as Kahoko returned it, looking relieved and happy.

"Actually, if you're not going to be practicing or doing schoolwork, on Friday, I've had a little bit of a sweet tooth lately. There's a great cake shop that I've been to a couple of times with my other friends, and it would be fun to go with you. Ah, if you like sweets, that is," she added, smiling warmly. Friday. It seemed too soon, almost. Shoko tried to remember the last time she'd been out with another person. She couldn't, and a wave of panic came over here. For all that Kahoko might find Shoko to be nice, it didn't change the fact that the younger girl didn't have much to say and was never much fun, no matter the company. She should say no, lest Friday come and Kahoko lose interest in ever talking to her again. Infrequent as they were, Shoko treasured these little chats, soaking up Kahoko's kindness like a wilted plant did water.

She hesitated, unsure. There was the usual fear, yes. Daunting as always. But a little bit of anticipation. Hope that it would go well. That maybe, if Kahoko was there, Shoko could do this.

Kahoko waited.

"O-okay," Shoko said. "Friday sounds fine . . . it's been a while since I've had cake." The words were out, and it was too late to change her mind. Still, in spite of the dread, that thread of excitement remained. A cake shop, with a friend. An involuntary smile went across her face.

"It's settled then," Kahoko said happily. "Friday after school . . . we'll meet by the gate and walk there, unless you have something you need to do right after?"

"No, I don't need to do anything . . . um, the gate is fine," she agreed.

"Alright, I should get home then. I hope you feel better. I'll see you later, Shoko-chan!" she waved cheerily, then headed off down the opposite street toward her house. Shoko watched her retreating form, a knot of warmth and anxiety tying in her stomach.

_It's okay_, she told herself. _It's Kaho-senpai. It'll be alright. She understands._

Shoko turned in the direction of her own home to finish her walk, but the peace of the day did not quite return and envelop her in it's spell.

* * *

**_Thursday Afternoon _**

* * *

"Just look at him. He's so gorgeous . . ." The dreamy exclamation came from a girl standing about two feet away from Shoko with her cluster of friends. Around them, people filtered through the crowded hallway, most of the initial after-school rush having gotten their things and headed out. Shoko took her time, however, both to avoid that crowd and because she had nowhere else to be.

She tensed at this, though, and hoped they were talking about any one of the gorgeous music school guys that surely lurked through the school, and not the particular one that she knew of.

_Don't turn around, don't turn around, _she chanted to herself. _Either way, you don't care or want to see._

"Or he might be if he weren't so cold to everyone."

Shoko's heart sank, and against her better judgment, she carefully turned her head. There it was, that neat mop of blue steadily weaving it's way through the crowd of students, a slightly impatient quirk to his brow. Too tall, she thought. She shouldn't be able to see his face. She wished she couldn't see his face, if the fact that she suddenly felt feverish was any indication to go by. Involuntarily, she turned a little more that way, stepping sideways as she did so.

"Who cares if he's cold? Maybe he just needs someone to warm him up," one of the girls said, followed by a round of shocked gasps and giggles.

"Yuka-chan, you're terrible!" the first voice exclaimed, despite the fact that they'd all heard and said worse.

Shoko's face burned, but the corners of her eye kept determined watch over his progress. He was almost right across from her when someone abruptly plowed straight into her. Distracted as she was, she went sprawling into Len's path like wayward tumbleweed.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, _the panicked words ran through her head as the toes of his polished, neatly laced shoes halted but inches away from her face. She felt like hyperventilating, and she was sure her face had never been so red if the heat she felt crawling through it was any indication. She scrambled back from him, and too late realized she hadn't collected her case and the books she'd been holding. Her face flaming, and still on her knees, she inched around him towards her things, snatching them back towards her as fast as she could.

"S-s-s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai, I, um, s-someone pushed me, I-I," her teeth chattered, her hands shook, and her brain was not working. _Run away! _were the only coherent instructions coming from her mind. Len sent her a disinterested look of puzzlement, and almost as an afterthought, leaned down to pick up one of her things. She grabbed it and yanked it toward her before he could. "N-no, that's okay, um, I have it, thank you, s-sorry, again, I didn't mean to," she choked out as she stood with the last of her things. She gave a hasty, flustered bow of apology, and he nodded. After all, she reflected, this was typical Shoko behavior. The realization made her glad her face couldn't get any redder. She felt faint. If she stood here a minute longer, she was sure she'd pass out.

"It's fine," he said, and Shoko accepted the two words gratefully, spun around, and hurried in the opposite direction, wherever it led to, as fast as she could without breaking into a full-on run. The sounds of the hallway were only a distant hum against the pounding of her ears, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been walking when she finally slowed down and leaned against a wall to catch her breath. Clutching the handle of her clarinet case in her trembling grip, she huddled into herself, finally understanding why it was so important to stay away from him. Because now that her head had cleared and she'd managed to calm down a little, she wanted to go back and crash into him all over again.

_Rule of three, _she reminded herself. _Don't ever forget it._


	3. Even If the World Keeps Breaking Them

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.

A/N: Woo, I have completed a third chapter, amazingly enough. Um, I guess here is where people might think Shoko is acting a little out of character, so I know that might bother you. But see, I don't believe that people exist who are quiet and unassuming and ONLY quiet and unassuming. Still waters run deep, and all that. So. I apologize if it bothers anyone, but this is where I felt compelled to take her character. Thanks for your understanding, and I hope I don't botch this too much.

Once more, thank you **AniMangaFrEAk19930 **for helping me out. I did in fact have Shoko using the honorific 'kun' for Tsukimori instead of 'senpai'. I appreciate your corrections a lot – I'm afraid I'll probably make a lot of mistakes, and am always glad if people catch them!

Anyhow . . . sorry for the lengthy note. Please enjoy, and thanks for reading and for any feedback!

* * *

_**Friday Morning **_

* * *

Shoko prodded the tiny marshmallows with the tip of her spoon, sending them in slow circles across the small wave of milk the disruption created, and waited intently for them to still.

It was 5:23 in the morning and she was looking for answers in her cereal. It wasn't like she could find them elsewhere, and after a fairly sleepless night, her mind was not quite in perfect order.

The many little pieces of cereal began to slow, the final current disappearing.

"Show me the way," she muttered. "Tell me what to do. I completely give my fate over to you."

They stopped, quivering, and she leaned closer towards the bowl, trying to open her mind to the message that must surely be there. An oval blob with a straight line coming from it, then another, sparser line going down from the tip of that to a bobbing circle.

She frowned. It looked like someone fishing.

"Go fish?" she wondered aloud. What was that supposed to mean?

She considered this for a few more moments, and decided that the good-for-nothing cereal was playing games with her. She took a bite with a small measure of vengeance, startling the picture into disarray.

It had gone soggy. Lovely. But maybe that was the message. _You are soggy. _Soggy Shoko. She didn't like the sound of that. Shoggy Shoko? It flowed better, but left her wondering what Shoggy could mean. Nothing good, by the sound of it. She might as well just be soggy. Though how could a person be soggy?

She pushed the bowl of cereal, a favored breakfast food she had used what little force she possessed in order to acquire on a regular basis, away from her, towards the center of the table. The bowl looked a little lonely, she thought. Her mother usually arranged some flowers for the centerpiece, but she was away with Father on a trip to see some eccentric friend in Brazil. The ones she'd left behind had wilted and been thrown away, leaving the table empty.

But then she decided that was fine with her. The cereal deserved to be lonely. As lonely as Shoko was. Nonetheless, that irrational part of her, the product of sleep-deprivation and emotional desperation, made her fetch the salt and pepper from the counter and put them in a companionable position next to the bowl. Better, but she knew the housekeeper would be down moments after Shoko left to rinse the bowl and stick it in the dishwasher.

She suddenly felt very depressed. _At least the salt and pepper still have each other, _she thought, and her spirits lifted a little as she went to go shower and try to make it look like she hadn't spent the night wide awake and the morning talking to cereal.

* * *

_**Friday Afternoon **_

* * *

After a long day, despite having been clumsily lost in thought for most of it, Shoko emerged from the confines of the music school in mostly working order, considering the past twenty four hours. There had been a couple of times when she'd been called upon in class and it had taken her longer than it should have to supply an answer, but as per usual, no one had tried to talk to her. She had been mercifully spared the sight of Len, and her mind was perfectly clear and free to tie itself in knots over her impending doom. Her stomach turning over in a jelloid dance, she felt unusually lightheaded and anxious. She knew she should probably walk faster, lest she make Kahoko wait a long time, but her feet were stalling, certain this was all going to go disastrously awry.

_You should have thought of that before you said yes, _she chastised herself grimly, but the self-reprimand was unnecessary. She had thought of it – to be honest, she always thought things were going to go disastrously awry – but the problem was that for once, she'd ignored it. Because for some crazy reason she thought it might go well.

The reasoning had since abandoned her.

_Trust in Kahoko._ She certainly wanted to, but for all her treasured memories of the concourse, Shoko didn't know Kahoko that well, and unknowns had tripped her up often enough in the past for her to avoid them like the plague.

Nearing the gate, she spotted the back of Kahoko's head, and her pulse sped up. She should have told Kahoko she was sick. Should have found a way to get out of what would inevitably be an extremely painful couple of hours that ended with Kahoko making a mental note to avoid Shoko, and Shoko wanting to throw herself out a window in self-resentment.

"Shoko-chan!" Kahoko called, catching sight of her and waving happily. Her mouth went dry, and dread filled her. This was awful – what was she going to say? It was just Kahoko and Shoko – no one else to carry the conversation while Shoko regrouped and tried to find something to say that wasn't completely stupid.

"K-Kaho-senpai," she gulped out. "How was your day?"

"It was good – I had a test in math, which I think I did terribly on, but I'll just have to wait and see. What about you?"

"Mine? It was, um, okay. I mean, good. Nothing much happened," she responded distractedly, most of her attention on keeping her lunch down. Past experience told her that throwing up on someone was not a good way to establish friendship. Just one of life's hard-learned lessons.

Kahoko nodded.

"School can be a little dull sometimes, it's true. Are you feeling better, though? You really didn't seem well yesterday."

_I have yet to find a cure for such an illness, and my cereal certainly wasn't any help. _But again she held her tongue, reluctant to unload her ridiculous feelings on Kahoko, who probably never had problems like this. Shoko was the only one with her head in the clouds and too little self control.

"Ah, yes, I'm much better today, thank you," she lied instead, feeling a little guilty but unsure what else to do, lest she worry Kahoko.

"I'm glad," the older girl responded, looking genuinely relieved. "I was worried you wouldn't be well enough for cake. Though for me, I think even at my sickest, I can still eat cake," she said with a grin.

Shoko laughed. "My stomach isn't so strong as that when I'm ill, but I think I can manage today. Um, where is the place we're going?"

"It's not far from here, so I thought we would walk there since it's such a nice day."

"Yes, it really is," Shoko agreed, her unease dissipating slightly as she inhaled, noting that it was as nice as it had been Wednesday. She'd been so busy thinking and worrying about today that she hadn't even thought to stop and enjoy what she normally considered a gift.

She and Kahoko set off away from the school at a leisurely pace, walking in pleasant quiet, disturbed only by the click of their shoes on the cement and the sounds of birds and passing cars. Shoko was gradually beginning to feel more comfortable when Kahoko spoke.

"Do you walk home from school a lot?"

"Ah, no . . . not usually. That day was unusual."

"Oh. I hadn't thought so, since I don't usually see you, but . . ." she paused, the corners of her lips tilting up as she glanced at Shoko. "You seemed really content when you were walking the other day. I thought you maybe enjoyed taking walks." She was looking curiously at Shoko, who started to shake her head, and then paused.

"Um . . . I do, actually. I don't do it often, because . . . I, um, I'm not really comfortable a lot of the time. But some days, I feel . . . ah, brave, maybe. And I get a little lost in the day. I . . . I really like days like that," she spoke quietly, trying to find the words to describe the daunting fear and the sweet peace she found when she was able to overcome it and seize a beautiful day. She reddened in dismay, knowing her words held the same awkwardness as always, but Kahoko nodded in thoughtful agreement.

"I understand what you mean. I'm glad sometimes you're able to do things you enjoy, though. Sometimes school drags on so much that it makes me feel a little . . ." she shrugged embarrassedly. "Suffocated. I think its important to have something refreshing to keep you from getting down." Shoko found herself nodding along. Her heart tugged a little as she listened to Kahoko's voice, clear and light, hinting at a vast understanding of people. Shoko was suddenly glad she'd come out today. She didn't think she'd rather be anywhere else than here, trying to be still and quiet enough so Kahoko's bright energy would surround her, undisrupted. And then maybe she could carry a little bit of it away with her.

"Ah, it should just be down the street and around the corner. I'm sorry to make you walk so long, I guess it's a little further than I remembered."

"No, its fine, um, I don't mind at all . . ." Shoko had forgotten her feet were even moving.

In fact, she'd been so distracted, she abruptly realized that she'd neglected to visit the lavatory before leaving school, and she very much needed to now. Her face set to the task of turning crimson. She didn't think she could wait until they got to the cake shop, and if she went there, she'd have to walk by all of the tables full of people with nothing better to do than eye the people passing by. She glanced at the nearby shop. A florist. Maybe they would have one she could use . . .

"Um, Kaho-senpai . . . I'm so sorry, I, um, need to visit the ladies room, i-is it alright if I stop in the florist's and, um, see if I can there?" She hated when this happened. She hadn't realized until just now it would even be a problem. _Idiot, idiot, idiot, _she chanted to herself in humiliation. Kahoko nodded understandingly.

"Of course, I'll just wait out here," she said, gesturing to the outside flower displays. Shoko forced a nod, and darted into the florist's, berating herself all the way.

Until she realized she was facing another problem. She couldn't just ask to use their restroom without buying anything. Frantically, she looked around her. What would she do with flowers? She'd have to take them into the cakeshop with her, and people would stare, and Kahoko was waiting for her and she was wasting time and the florist was looking up at her and saying Hello and all she wanted to do was melt into the floor like the miserable puddle of shame that she was.

And then her gaze fell on a tiny bouquet of white daisies and she thought of the kitchen table, that grand concession to informality, and its blank, lonely surface. She shuffled over and tugged it from the black cylinder of water near the counter.

"Um, just these, please," she said tremulously, and the cashier rang it up with a smile. Shoko quickly dug into the pocket of her bookbag for her pocketbook, and clumsily removed a 1000 yen bill.

The woman took it, and stuck the daisies in a protective clear plastic cover. It was small enough to stick in her bookbag, and she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't needed to take home all of her textbooks today.

"A-also, do you have a l-ladies room that I can use?" Her face would burst into flame at any moment, she thought. She envisioned the top of her head ablaze and the startled cashier dumping one of the cylinders of water over her.

_Perhaps that's how a person can be soggy, _she thought, too mortified to be amused.

"Sure, down the hall to the left there," the lady nodded toward a little corridor breaking into the wall a few feet away. Shoko thanked her and darted down it, feeling like she'd been in the shop for hours. What if Kahoko got impatient and went home?

The rational part of her brain told her Kahoko would never do such a thing, but Shoko was not quite in the mood for rational thought. She hurried faster, and a couple minutes later she quickly left.

"Thanks, and have a nice day!" the clerk called after her.

"Um, thank you, you, too," she responded distractedly, turning sharply out of the doorway and feeling intensely grateful for having been raised from an early age to possess a certain amount of grace.

She was still far from it, but Shoko didn't dare think what kind of messes she'd get into if she were left to manage with her natural grace, which was no doubt non-existent.

Stepping into the light of day, she opened her mouth to speak, but in the end, no sound came out, for she saw that Kahoko was not alone. Her breath caught, and she felt thrilled and crushed all at the same time, heart pausing painfully before resuming an unnatural tempo.

A golden shaft of sunlight warmed Kahoko's hair, giving it's deep red a shimmering layer of gold-orange. Her head tilted upwards, her mouth smiling that lovely smile that until this point, Shoko had associated only with feelings of peace and contentment. But a strange, twisting feeling clenched within her, and she couldn't seem to speak.

And of course, in front of Kahoko, emitting his own sun-lent glow, was Len Tsukimori, seeming to unconsciously lean closer, pulled in by Kahoko's magic. His eyes, which usually betrayed nothing, held a suspicious warmth, and perhaps Shoko was imagining it, but he seemed ever so slightly flushed, playing tall, elegant, and reserved to Kahoko's petite, kind, and open.

_Like a picture painted by fairies, _Shoko thought. _Perfectly matched opposites, in a world completely their own._

She was quietly debating whether to bolt while they were absorbed in each other, if only to escape that dreadful, unsettling feeling coiled within her gut, when Kahoko caught sight of her and waved her over with a smile.

Helpless, Shoko moved forward, her heart pounding and an inexplicable despair seizing her muscles.

"Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she choked out, bowing in greeting. But before she bent her head, she saw his startled gaze flick over to her, and she realized then that he hadn't even noticed her. Mortification filled her, the accompanying flush crawling up her neck and filling her head with a warm, pounding sensation.

He returned the greeting automatically, but his attention was on Kahoko the entire time.

_Please, please, just let me disappear. I would give anything._

Her pleas went unanswered, and Kahoko began to speak, gesturing towards Len, sounding a little more scattered than usual. So he unnerved her, too, Shoko noted. She felt ill.

"Ah, yes, while you were in there, I ran into Tsukimori-kun. He said he had an errand to run . . . oh . . . Tsukimori-kun, why don't you come to the cake shop with us?"

Later on, Shoko would congratulate herself on not falling over dead on the spot, but at the moment, she was too busy trying to keep from screaming, "Nooooooooooooo!" to give herself much credit, or consider the fact that surely Kahoko would have realized how uncomfortable that would be and known better than to ask him. And if she didn't, all she'd have to do was notice that Shoko's eyes were screaming and she'd stop short. Sadly, she had not.

But then, one did not have time to think about such things when one was having a crisis. If you could call it that. Apoplectic fit would almost do as well.

Len hesitated for a long moment, a moment in which Shoko did more and sincerer praying than she ever had in her life. _Say no, say no, say no, _she repeated fervently, holding her breath and clenching her fists at her sides. _Say no._

"Okay."

_God damn it!_

She clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked by her own profanity, even though she hadn't said it out loud. She hadn't, had she?

"Is something wrong, Shoko-chan?"

Oh, good. She hadn't. But now Kahoko probably thought she was insane in addition to being dull and difficult to have a conversation with. What color in her face had fled when Kahoko had invited him along returned with a vengeance. _Stupid. What are you thinking? You're acting like an idiot. What is wrong with you? He's just a person. What's the big deal? Why can't you just act like a normal person for once?_

"I-I'm fine, I just . . . um," she scrambled for an excuse. "Er, the child . . . over there . . . um, he almost tripped, and it alarmed me . . ."

_That is quite possibly the dumbest excuse you have ever come up with._

By now, the shame was a physical ache.

Kahoko glanced back towards the child skipping along the sidewalk, and nodded, a little smile creeping across her face. "I'm glad he didn't, then. Shall we go, Shoko-chan, Tsukimori-kun?" She looked at them, poised to continue along, and they both nodded, Len with a mixture of eagerness and hesitance, and Shoko with the growing numbness that now seemed to have taken over. She'd felt a bigger range of emotions today than she probably had in the last year.

They set off, and Shoko dragged behind numbly, watching the two of them interact, Kahoko awkwardly pitching forward conversation and Len rewarding her efforts with equally awkward, stilted responses.

For the first time ever, in spite of all her efforts to avoid disappointment, in spite of knowing she was who she was and she always would be, Shoko wished with all her heart that she could be Kahoko.

Kahoko slowed, and glanced behind towards Shoko, waiting for her to catch up.

"Are you alright, Shoko-chan?"

Shoko moved a little faster, hating that in her efforts to fade back, she'd drawn attention to herself. Len was giving her another one of those "Huh? Someone else in the world exists aside from Kahoko?" looks. She forced her eyes away from him, and tried to smile.

"I'm s-sorry, Kaho-senpai . . . I'm just fine."

And she only stuttered once.


	4. Because Even If You Knew It All Along

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, and also, thanks again, **Dream Cager**!

Hopefully things will start getting more interesting soon . . . key word, hopefully. The first few chapters are sort of introductory stuff, so . . . I guess, enjoy!

* * *

There comes a time in every woman's life when she feels inexplicably compelled to crawl under the table and slit her wrists.

Incidentally, Shoko's time had come.

"Hello, how are you all today?" the waitress asked, smiling politely as she distributed menus between them.

Shoko could think of any number of responses, none of them socially acceptable.

"G-good, thank you," she forced out, and Len and Kahoko did much the same.

"Can I get you anything to drink while you decide?"

A chorus of "Just water, please," and the waitress was off. A not entirely comfortable silence fell over the table, and Shoko twisted off the corner of the paper napkin on her lap while staring intently at the table edge. Not that it would give her any more answers than her cereal had, but a girl could try.

Kahoko, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort radiating from her companions, happily picked up the menu. She tapped Shoko's menu lightly, and grinned at the other girl, who started and looked up in confusion.

"Prepare yourself, for something wonderful."

In spite of her pain, Shoko gave a shaky laugh and picked up her menu as Kahoko nodded in satisfaction and went on to scour her own for the perfect choice.

Len, of course, already had his open, not that he was really focused on it.

She resisted the urge to slump into her chair, and dragged her own thoughts back to the menu.

Her mood lifted slightly when she saw there was a little section for pie. She liked cake well enough, but her usual choice of dessert, when she ate it, was pie. More specifically, she adored pie crust, but most people didn't really serve it sans filling.

She quietly shut her menu, and went back to clutching the mutilated napkin.

A couple of minutes later, Kahoko did the same, and Len followed suit, returning to the dual surveillance of his water glass and Kahoko's lovely face.

Shoko looked at her own water glass and considered trying to drown herself in it.

_Further Adventures of Sogginess, compliments of Shoko Fuuyumi_, she thought in wry misery. She was being rather morbid today, she noted. Not to mention that appalling vulgarity from earlier, the recollection of which had her turning red in shame.

Naturally, given the inherently quiet natures of her two companions, Kahoko was left to try and carry the conversation.

"Ah . . . what are you guys going to get?" the question disrupted the silence like a pebble skipping into the water, and Len and Shoko slowly came out of their individual reveries to process the question.

"Cherry pie," she murmured quietly, and returned to her napkin instead of having to watch as Len valiantly tried to make his dessert order sound clever and engaging.

But alas, he was a mere mortal man, and his final answer was simply, "The Dark Castle Cake," in reference to an astonishing arrangement of chocolate cake topped and trimmed with any number of dark chocolate features. "What about you, Hino-san?"

But Kahoko was looking at him in amazement, with good reason. Even Shoko had stopped in surprise. Neither girl could imagine the cold, refined young man next to them consuming the hefty confection he had just described.

Shoko, in fact, felt intrigued, like she was about to witness a strange phenomenon that few people had or ever would see.

"Er, I'm getting the Strawberry Tango . . . I didn't know you liked chocolate, Tsukimori-kun," Kahoko stumbled over the words, still recovering from the shock, but the disbelief was evident in her voice. Shoko looked up briefly, a little curious herself, and her heart wavered a little at the flush dusting his cheeks.

He was blushing! A very un-Len like blush, yet it strangely suited him.

"I . . . It's nice on the occasion," he said, and the words were almost a mumble.

Shoko probably shouldn't be enjoying his embarrassment as much as she was, but really, it was about time it was someone else with the problem instead of her.

"Oh . . . I see," Kahoko responded, and then seemed to realize her obvious surprise had made him feel awkward. She, also, turned a lovely pink color, and Shoko leaned back a little to view the scene before her with bashfully delighted amazement. For the first time in her life, she was the only person at the table NOT blushing. Heady stuff, that.

The glee was short-lived, for karma struck and Kahoko turned her scattered attention on Shoko.

"Ah . . . so, have you guys seen much of each other since the concourse?"

Either some divine force was torturing Shoko, or Kahoko's feelings of awkwardness had spawned a question she normally should have answered and dismissed before it even left her mouth. Shoko stared at her, quickly joining the party of People At the Table Who Sort of Wish They'd Disappear.

"N-no, not . . . not at all," she half-said, half-squeaked, and completely lied for what must have been the third time that day. She'd spent the time since the concourse switching between desperately avoiding him and giving in to temptation to shyly seek out the sight of him. So maybe it wasn't a lie - the two probably canceled each other out to make for a normal sighting-average.

Len didn't even need to give an answer. His gaze shot to her in confusion, proving he had once again forgotten she was there.

But this time, instead of being embarrassed, Shoko felt a sliver of something akin to bitterness. _That's not right_, she tried to tell herself. _You often make an effort to be forgotten. You have no right to take offense - you've been fading into the background for longer than you can remember, and you've always been okay with that._ The feeling shrank away, but did not leave completely.

"No," he agreed, then paused thoughtfully. "Actually, I saw her Wednesday, I think," he amended._ He thinks? He_ thinks? The bitter feeling swept back up her throat, and she felt uncharacteristically moody and churlish.

"Not really, I nearly crashed straight into you, more like," she muttered, caught up in her inner feelings, feelings she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

It took her a few seconds to realize the other two occupants of the table were staring at her, Kahoko slightly open mouthed. Sane perspective returned, along with it, horror at herself.

"I-I, um, I'm s-sorry about that, Ts-tsukimori-sen . . . senpai. I . . . I guess, ah, I can be clumsy s-sometimes." She tried to get herself to stop shaking. Len nodded slowly.

"It's fine," and looked at her for a moment longer, a terrible, eternal-seeming scrutiny that had her ready to bolt from the table, before dismissing her once more as the waitress arrived. Kahoko's gaze, however, lingered, a mixture of perplexity and something else that Shoko couldn't identify. If anything, she swore she saw the corner of her mouth tilt up, but that could just be in preparation to smile at the waitress, who had arrived and was setting down their drinks.

"Are you all ready?"

"Yes," affirmed Kahoko, and Shoko nodded mutely.

"Okay," she said, flipping open the notepad she'd fished out from the pocket of her cute apron. "Miss?" she prompted Shoko.

"Um, I would like the Cheery Cherry Pie, please," she responded quietly, unable to dust away the shadow that seemed to have fallen over her mind. _Probably for the better, so you don't say anything else ridiculous._

"Cheery . . . Cherry . . . Pie . . ." the waitress scribbled. "And you?" she looked up, and nodded towards Kahoko.

"The Strawberry Tango, please,"

"Strawberry . . . Tango . . . and the usual for you, Mr. Tsukimori?" the waitress directed a friendly smile in his direction. Shoko and Kahoko both swiveled their heads towards him, mouths agape. Len briefly looked like he was in a great deal of pain, before straightening in his chair and nodding shortly at the waitress.

"Yes, please. Thank you." She cast him a curious glance, her gaze shifting to Kahoko and Shoko and back to him, before shrugging slightly.

"Alright, then - anything else?"

They all shook their heads.

"Well, it should be out soon. Please let me know if you need anything," and she departed to fill their order.

Kahoko was clearly trying to stifle a grin as she turned to Len.

"What errand did you say you came out here to run, Tsukimori-kun?" Her innocent tone did a poor job of covering the mischief laced through it. His face took on a martyred look.

"I didn't," he said stiltedly.

"Uh-huh. What do you make of that, Shoko-chan?" her voice teased, and Shoko, called upon to contribute to the . . . fun? This was supposed to be amusing, right? let go of her napkin and decided maybe this was a good time to get a little revenge on Len, not that he'd know what it was for. She geared herself up, mustering her courage, and tentatively spoke.

"I-I don't know, Kaho-chan. But it's a little suspicious that he doesn't want to tell us, I think," she said, feeling braver as she spoke, and immensely pleased with herself when she finished. Kahoko looked delighted with her answer, and Len cast her a half-surprised, half-murderous look, though his eyes betrayed a reluctant glint of humor. Proud, but ultimately good natured, as long as he wasn't on his guard. She could appreciate that.

The pleasure from the game dissipated a little at the direction of her thoughts, and she pushed the nonsense away.

"I have to agree with you, Shoko-chan. I guess we'll have to force it out of him," she determined with feigned regret, and Len choked on a regal sip of water. Shoko and Kahoko briefly abandoned the game to look at him in concern.

"Tsukimori-kun?" Kahoko questioned, and Shoko looked on, noting that he had flushed considerably and was looking askance. Interesting. She wondered what had caused that reaction, but came up with nothing.

"Water - went down - wrong." Until then, Shoko hadn't known someone could gasp out something with such dignity. Or any dignity at all, for that matter. _What a guy_, she thought ironically, allowing herself a smile.

"In that case," Kahoko continued on, "Do you feel like sharing yet, or should I instruct the waitress to withhold your cake?" she delivered the playful threat with narrowed eyes full of lively amusement.

Shoko watched Len study her for a moment, fighting a smile, which was understandable. No matter who you were, even if you'd normally find a joke ridiculous or pointless, Kahoko was contagious, whatever the emotion.

And then the magnitude of the concept struck her. Len smiling. The novelty of such a thing, of what she was witnessing and might in the near future witness, crept into her thoughts, and her heart skidded into a faster pace.

Len composed his face into a mask of disdain, raising an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly, and inclined his head.

"As you will."  
"

Such stubborn silence! Unfortunately, that action might be unnecessary. I think Shoko-chan has come to the same conclusion as I have about your secret," Kahoko's eyes twinkled, and she looked pleased with Len's participation. Shoko wasn't surprised, though. Kahoko's almost magic abilities had proved themselves time and time again.

"I think I have, Kaho-senpai," she nodded solemnly.

"And what is that?" Len queried demurely, preparing to deny the accusation.

"Well, it's obvious. He was coming here . . . to flirt with the waitress," Kahoko finished, winking at Shoko. Clearly not expecting the intentionally ridiculous punch line to the joke, Len laughed, a little embarrassed, but obviously enjoying himself.

And Shoko's lungs filled but couldn't empty, her insides seeming to tumble over one another, heart seizing. To her astonishment and confusion, she felt tears, of all things, prickling the corners of her eyes when normally she would have laughed along. She was baffled. She couldn't account for the tears, or for this inexplicable, wrenching, yet oddly light feeling knotting in her whole self. Her vision blurred, and she held her breath, trying to keep from crying at the table for no apparent reason.  
Kahoko, who seemed almost equally transfixed by Len's laughter, dragged her gaze away and glanced at Shoko.

"Shoko-chan, is something the matter?" How many times had Kahoko asked her that in the last few days? She wondered if there was just something visibly wrong with her to match the hidden problem.

She opened her mouth to say no, she was distracted, or some other weak excuse, but instead, she sneezed, barely remembering to cover her nose. Which turned out to be a much better excuse than the one she had planned.

"Bless you," but oddly, it did not come from Kahoko. The source was Len.

Shoko's face unaccountably heated. Oh, dear. Now even simple courtesy was setting her off. She sniffled to clear her nose, and plastered a smile on her face.

"N-nope, I just . . . needed to sneeze," she gestured, and Kahoko nodded, the smile back on her face. And then quietly, she added, "And thank you, Ts-tsukimori-senpai."

He tilted his head, eying her with that same scrutinizing look from earlier, allowing her to mentally squirm before nodding and focusing once more on Kahoko, who had begun to ask how long he'd been coming here for cake. His long, elegant fingers drummed against the table as he reluctantly answered.

"A few months, now."

"Oh . . . I haven't been in a while, but my friends and I used to come here often. It's amazing we haven't run into each other then."

"I suppose it is," he said hesitantly, in a way that suggested it wasn't as amazing as Kahoko might think. No doubt he made himself scarce if he ever saw Kahoko here, Shoko decided, and imagined Len catching sight of Kahoko and diving under the table, doing a military crawl out of the back door to the restaurant while a stunned waitress looked on.

She dissolved into giggles.

Kahoko gave her a quizzical smile, but Shoko was laughing too hard to say anything. Even the feeling of embarrassment did not stop the helpless giggles. It was Len's staring at her with a strange look on his face that finally sobered her, and she shifted under his gaze, a prickly sensation crawling over her skin. He abruptly turned away, giving her no time to try and read it._Oh, dear, _she thought. _He must think I'm mad. One minute, I'm stuttering, the next, I'm muttering under my breath, and then I __randomly burst into laughter. _If she hadn't still felt the affects of her laughter, and if she didn't have company, she would have hit her head against the table in self-chagrin.

Kahoko was waiting expectantly for an explanation, however, and Shoko scrambled to come up with something. There was certainly no way she would relay the undignified and possibly offensive mental image of Len's Cake Shop Escape, not to mention she was reluctant to clue in Kahoko in regards to Len's behavior. It would be unfair to him.

She frowned, suddenly wondering how Len managed anger. He was frightening enough as it was when he was irritated, or when he was so annoyed he looked like he might kill someone, but what about anger? Fury. She'd never seen that. Would the icy control he always held over himself disappear, leaving open all of those strong emotions he normally stifled? And they were there – something told her that for all his cold indifference, Len's personality was anything but mild. All of that unleashed, channeled into anger . . . the complete unknown of a coldly furious Len sent a frightened shiver down her spine. _Not something I ever want to see, _she thought.

"Shoko-chan?" Kahoko prompted, and Shoko broke out of her reverie.

"Ah, it was . . . I'm s-sorry, I thought of something . . . er, it's hard to explain," she mumbled weakly, and Kahoko shook her head with a smile.

"If you say so . . . Oh, there's the waitress!" she sat up straight, her face lighting up. She stilled, and her cheeks pinked as she put a hand behind her head, her brow wrinkling. "Sorry. It's been a while since I've had sweets."

Len simply glanced the other way, hiding a small smile.

Kahoko had that effect on people. And yet, that weird, unpleasant feeling tugged at Shoko once more.

"Here we are, the Cheery Cherry Pie for you," she set the plate down in front of Shoko with a clink. "And your Strawberry Tango," she transferred Kahoko's plate from her tray towards Kahoko, who took it and set it down happily. "And of course, your Dark Castle Cake, Mr. Tsukimori," she handed it to him, and then refilled their water glasses with the pitcher from the tray. "Enjoy, and I'll be back to check on you in a bit." She hurried off, and Kahoko, looking immensely happy, unrolled the napkin, set it on her lap, and took a bite of her cake.

"Mmmmm. Heaven," she murmured blissfully, and Len looked at her warily before shaking his head and gracefully picking up his fork.

Shoko, still feeling unsettled, followed suit, and took a bite of her pie.

Any other day, or even five minutes ago, it would have tasted fantastic. But at that moment, with all of the strange moods she'd experienced over the course of today leading up to that bizarre, unhappy jarring feeling, the flaky crust and warm cherries turned bitter in her mouth.

* * *

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, and half an hour later, they left. Len politely offered to walk with them until Shoko and Kahoko's streets split, Shoko politely covered her snort at the transparent excuse to spend more time with Kahoko, and the trio set off in companionable silence. Well, companionable for Len and Kahoko. Shoko was fiddling with the strap of her book bag, lost in her troubled thoughts. She didn't feel well. After the initial awfulness, the outing was pleasant, or at least tolerable, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling. Instead, it seemed to build up as they walked along, churning inside her like a thunderstorm. _What's wrong with you? _She wondered when she'd be able to give an honest answer. 

Kahoko and Shoko's cross street came sooner than expected, and Shoko was surprised to have reached it with no interruption to her thoughts. Kahoko must have had her hands full with Len, she decided, and that awful feeling expanded in her chest.

"Ah, here we are!" Kahoko announced, and the group slowed. She looked between the two of them with a warm smile. "That was a lot of fun . . . let's definitely do it again sometime,"

Shoko hesitantly nodded in agreement. She wasn't sure she could handle that much excitement so close together. Today had been . . . well. It magnified the daily stress Len Tsukimori's existence had on her by a hundred.

"Yes," Len finally agreed, after thinking over it for a long moment, and Kahoko smiled up at him in that way that showed she understood exactly what was going through Len's thoughts. Well, aside from certain _feelings._They seemed to be the one thing Kahoko was deaf to.

Then, as Kahoko waved goodbye and thanked Shoko for coming out, Len spoke, looking resigned.

"Ah . . . Hino-san. May I talk to you for a moment?" Kahoko halted, surprised.

"Oh . . . sure. What is it?" she asked, a questioning look in her eyes. Len hesitated, glancing at Shoko, who took the hint and murmured a goodbye before turning and heading down the street at what she prayed was a normal pace.

She hadn't left soon enough, apparently, for she did hear what he had to say next.

"Are you busy next Saturday?"

She stumbled on the sidewalk, and the feeling she'd had since they'd left the restaurant burned, the storm growing. She quickened her pace, and as soon as she was out of sight, she broke into a run, her feet slapping against the pavement and her book bag slamming into her side. She didn't care. She raced on, feeling the moisture build up inside her eyes. By the time she reached her house, it was only a blur in front of her. She took the steps two at a time, throwing open the door and slamming it before scrambling clumsily up the stairs and into her room, where she shut the door and slumped onto the floor, a sob leaking out. Tears burned at her eyes, and she crawled over to her clarinet case, pulling it out even though she was in no condition to play. _It hurts, _she thought, grasping it, desperate for the cool, comforting feel of the wood. _It hurts so much. Why does it hurt?_

And Shoko simply clutched the instrument to her chest as she curled up in the corner, squeezing her eyes shut as the thunder inside gave way to rain and she cried.


	5. It Still Hurts

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.

A/N: Thanks, Dream Cager, for letting me know so quickly the problem with scrunching so I was able to fix it as soon as possible. I hadn't even noticed that it was doing that – I am amazed you managed to get through it in the first place. Again, thank you!

Thanks, also, to lovescent and Garowyn. I'm so glad to hear you like this and are enjoying it, thank you for the feedback and kind words!

Sorry this is a little late, I had my SATs last week. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Fuyuumi-san?" The housekeeper's voice was accompanied by a light knock, and Shoko, dry-eyed and void of energy, slowly uncurled from her position in the corner, raising herself up on one arm as she stared dazedly at the door. 

"Fuyuumi-san? Is something the matter?"

She glanced around her. The bright morning sun easily penetrated the whimsical white curtains of her bedroom window, and she looked dumbly at her surroundings, for a moment not comprehending.

She suddenly realized she was holding something. Glancing down, she released her grip, and her clarinet teetered dangerously in her palm. Sweaty fingerprints covered it, and her fingers prickled as the blood rushed back into them.

_I must have fallen asleep, _she thought, setting down her clarinet next to the rumpled edge of her school skirt.

Then her brain rewound, unified with another, more urgent knock. The bright sunlight? It must be after seven-o-clock!

"Fuyuumi-san? Are you in there?" She shot up from the floor, her eyes wide as she frantically patted her hair. Her legs wobbled a bit, and she began to stumble towards the mirror before she remembered the housekeeper.

"Y-yes! I'm sorry, j-just a moment please!" she tugged the white wooden comb with it's hand-painted flowers through her tangled hair, wincing at the sight in the dresser mirror. On one side, spidery clusters extended upwards, whereas the other side seemed to lay hopelessly flat. Panic rose in her chest. What time was it? She was going to be late. The only time she'd ever been late for class was . . .

She swallowed. In her haste, she'd managed to shove yesterday out of her mind. But the memory of another time when she'd been late had brought the entire thing rushing back, a flashing slide of pictures and jumbled phrases. She shook her head, trying to quash the wrenching feelings rising from the dull hollowness that had previously overcome her.

Empty was good. Empty was safe. In fact, empty was familiar.

She yanked the comb violently through her hair, trying to focus on her task instead of the echoing pain inside her chest.

Dismayed with the end result, a dull-looking flatness, she forced herself to write it off. She still needed to brush her teeth, and good _heavens,_ she couldn't wear this uniform again, it looked like it had been balled up and stuffed in the hamper for a week!

She tripped over the wool rug on her way to the closet doors, and it slid askew an inch. Distractedly shrugging off her jacket and trying to unbutton her shirt as she walked - or rather, made a series of slippery lurches - towards the closet, she looked back at it unhappily, a sense of frustration rising in her. Hopefully the housekeeper would fix it when she came to tidy the room, but Shoko would try and remember to do it anyways, just in case . . .

The thought was interrupted as her socks happily slid her backwards and her face, with equal enthusiasm, jumped straight into the closet door, causing her panicked expression to contort into one of agony.

With no time to nurse her wounds, she ignored the mind-boggling pain and clumsily yanked down on the gold handle, swinging the heavy white wooden door open in a wide arc at the same time she used it for support. This was the worst of all possible mornings to lose functionality in most of her mind and body, but with the way things had been going lately, she should have expected it. But then, how could she? Nothing she'd ever encountered had prepared her for that awful feeling.

She quickly tugged the zipper down on her skirt, letting it drop to the floor in a heap around her ankles. It took a lot of willpower to resist picking it up and folding it neatly in the hamper, but she told herself she'd rather avoid the humiliating awkwardness of walking into the classroom late, all eyes on her. Fear clenched in her gut at the mere thought, and she practically snatched the new shirt and blazer off their hangers.

She felt a soreness twitch in her shoulder as she wriggled her arm into the sleeves. She didn't remember ever having slept on the floor before. Absentmindedly, she made a mental note not to do it again if she could help it.

On went the skirt, the crisp white shirt hastily tucked into it. She raced into the bathroom, brushing furiously at her teeth and was running back out it forty-five seconds later, hoping she'd done a good job. She'd followed time rules for brushing her teeth since she was a child, and the few times she'd done without them always left her fretting over her dental hygiene.

Back in the stillness of her bedroom, she knelt by her clarinet and gingerly tucked it back into it's case, fastening the leather container before clutching the handle and setting off.

Shoko thrust open the door, a burst of cold air rushing at her and unsettling her hair. She anxiously patted it down, skidding to a slower pace as she entered the hall, lest the housekeeper think she was crazy. Hurrying down the stairs, Shoko grabbed her book bag from it's neat position near the door, waved at the housekeeper, who furrowed her brow and looked concerned, and then darted out the door.

She returned ten seconds later for her shoes, and this time the housekeeper stopped her.

"Fuyuumi-san . . . where are you going?"

Shoko froze, pinning her slightly bloodshot gaze on the baffled woman drying her hands on a dishtowel.

"What?"

"You're all dressed for school . . . is something going on there?"

Shoko looked blankly at her.

"I thought . . . I thought I was late for school."

"But it's a Saturday."

Her book bag slid off her shoulder and she transferred her stunned gaze to it's slump on the floor.

"Oh. It is, isn't it?"

The housekeeper bit her lip and frowned, before nodding.

"Well."

"Um . . . would you like some breakfast? I know you haven't had much of an appetite the last few days, so I made some cherry turnovers . . . You still like pastries, right?" She looked very unsure, and with good reason. Shoko was not the type of person who forgot what day of the week it was, and certainly not long enough to get completely dressed and ready for school. But then, Shoko also was not the type of person who cried herself to sleep on her bedroom floor and had horrible, stomach knotting feelings of . . . of _something,_just because a boy had asked her friend "Are you busy next Saturday?"

Her face turned crimson.

"Y-yes . . . I'm so sorry . . . I'm not . . . that is, I, um, haven't been feeling well, and I was disoriented when I woke up . . . ah, I'm going to go . . . go shower and change." She wanted to disappear. Takano probably thought she was going mad.

"Alright, then, I'll let it keep warm in the oven and take it out when you come back down."

"Ah, thank you very much, Takano-san! I . . . I'll be back soon," she said in a rush, before hurrying back up the stairs to bathe, dress, and maybe throw herself out a window along the way. With her luck, Len would be passing by as she did so and her prone form would end up hitting him in the face.

Unlike yesterday's pie, the turnovers were amazing, and Shoko mentally sent up a fervent prayer of gratitude for Takano, who was seated on a barstool, drinking her special herbal tea as she surveyed the table.

"It's a shame your mother isn't here to get more flowers," she commented thoughtfully. "The table seems empty without them."

Shoko dropped her fork.

"The flowers!" she scrambled out of her chair and to her feet, and hurried over to her bag. She wasn't sure why she was hurrying; getting to the slouching book bag faster wouldn't help any thing, but she nearly dived at the bag nonetheless, kneeling next to it and hastily undoing the zipper.

Her spirits fell. The flowers, carefully placed on the outside, had taken a beating on her race home. She hadn't even thought of that. Petals were strewn all over the bottom, and a stem had slid out of the plastic covering, it's soggy bud crushed against the side. Takano had quickly padded over, her brow wrinkled in concerned lines.

"Fuyuumi-san? What's wrong?"

Sighing, Shoko carefully lifted the crushed bouquet out of her bag, and held them up for the woman to see.

"I-I purchased them yesterday, when I was out with my friend," she explained quietly. "I thought things . . . the table, that is, looked a little lonely. Like how you were saying . . . it made me remember I had bought these." For some reason, the destroyed flowers made her want to run back to the corner and cry some more. Had she always been so emotional?

Takano nodded in understanding, then smiled, looking thoughtful.

"Well, when I run to the store, I'll pick up some more like these. They were a good choice. But speaking of yesterday, I forgot you'd gone out! How did things go with your friend? Did you have a good time?"

Shoko knew the appropriate answer here was to murmur, "Fine, thank you. And yes, we had a lovely time," but she was speechless at the unexpected query. This was _not_ her morning. In fact, this was not her week.

"I . . . we . . . actually, we met up with Tsukimori-senpai, from the concourse, and Kaho-chan invited him to come with us," _and yesterday might very well have been the worst day of my life. _She wasn't sure why she had gone into detail, but she desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, that there was something very wrong with her and she was scared because she didn't want to feel this way.

"Oh? He's the flutist, isn't he?"

"No . . . um, the other violinist."

"Ahhh, I'm sorry, it's been a few months," she shook her head, and smiled at Shoko, oblivious to her inner conflict. "Did that go alright . . .? I know it's hard for you sometimes, so I hope his being there didn't make you feel awkward."

_It did. More so than I can ever say._

"Oh, I . . ." how to answer a question that, though unknowingly so, was right on the mark. "He likes chocolate cake," she finished lamely. The response didn't even make sense, but she couldn't think of anything else to say without revealing everything or plainly lying.

The housekeeper looked at Shoko curiously.

"I see?" Shoko backtracked. Of course she'd be confused. Anyone would, but Takano, though she'd only been there a few years, probably knew her better than Shoko's own parents.

"Um, that is, it was surprising, b-because he doesn't really . . . neither of us thought he would like sweets." But did he like sweets? Or just cake? Or just Dark Chocolate? She wanted to know. Why did she want to know something as trivial and meaningless as that?

"Why wouldn't he like sweets?"

"Because he seems so cold," she said without thinking, but hurried to amend it. "He isn't, though. I, that is, he is, but he's not . . . I mean, not in a bad way, I think he's actually very - but I don't know him, s-so I shouldn't presume, but he . . . I think, maybe Tsukimori-senpai doesn't always know how to deal with people, even when he wants to." Honestly, it would be a miracle on Takano's part if she managed to understand any of that.

Takano took a moment to parse that, and smiled wryly.

"Well. I'm sure, then, he would be happy to know you understood."

But Shoko was sure he wouldn't. Who needed someone to understand when you had someone - someone lovely and kind and empathetic - who could also fix it?

"Maybe," she murmured. "But maybe not."

She felt very odd, sitting there as Takano peered at her through kind brown eyes.

"But you wouldn't know until you found out, would you? If he is a nice boy like you think, then it would be worth it to make friends with him. Don't you think?"

Shoko wondered if Takano remembered whom she was addressing. She continued sitting by her bag, confusion filling her.

"Hm." Takano shook her head and turned back toward the kitchen. "I'm glad things went alright, then. Are you going to finish your turnover, or should I clean up?"

Shoko snapped out of her daze.

"Ah, um, yes! It was - ah, is - delicious. Thank you for making them . . ." she paused. "It was . . . it was very kind of you, to make the effort for me. I'm . . . I appreciate it," she finished softly. Takano had noticed her lack of appetite and had been worried about her. In addition, she'd made the effort to try and fix it. Shoko hoped she had managed to get across her gratitude for the gesture of concern.

"You're very welcome, Fuyuumi-san," she said, and Shoko knew she understood. Moisture crept into her eyes, and she simply nodded, slipping into her chair and picking up her fork, her head tilted downward.

She really was overemotional lately. She wished someone could give her a good reason why.

* * *

"Fuyuumi-san." For the second time that day, Takano knocked on the door. 

Shoko set her clarinet down, stood, and straightened her skirt before opening the door.

"Ah, yes . . .?"

Takano held something up. An envelope, addressed to Shoko . . . _Mother's handwriting._

"A letter for you, from Kiri-sama."

"Oh . . ." Shoko took it, turning it over in her hands. She glanced back at Takano. "Ah, thank you for bringing it up . . ."

"Certainly, Fuyuumi-san. I'll leave you to read it, then. I'm going to head out to the store. Will you be alright? Should I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine. I'll just be up here."

Takano nodded.

"Alright, then. I'll be back soon," she said, and shut the door behind her, leaving Shoko to eye the letter with wary anticipation.

She went to her desk, fetching the letter opener from the drawer, and opened it, pulling out two beige stationary sheets with white roses in the corners, both sporting the same elegant script she knew well from many other letters.

_Dear Shoko,_

_- _

_How are you? I hope things are going well for you. You must be thinking it is unusual for me to write, given that this is a one week-trip, but I am afraid we will be extending it._

_Alessandra is doing marvelously - evidently, while we were away, she was wed a third time, to a very handsome cellist . . . three times, I cannot imagine it. It makes me so glad I still like your father - and the weather during our stay was beautiful. Very peaceful, and Alessandra is always a very entertaining hostess, if a little unorthodox, but I won't bore you with the details._

Bore her? More like send her into shock. Shoko had plenty of illusions as to what insane things her classy-but-a-little-crazy parents got up to on their frequent trips to foreign places, and she wanted to keep it that way. Thankfully, her mother was happy to oblige.

_Miss Cavendish, from England, dropped in for an impromptu visit. You haven't met her, dear - in fact, it was our first meeting as well. She's very young, but very amusing. Though she can be a little hotheaded and melodramatic. I suppose all youth are like that . . . well, except for you, but you have always been unusually . . . well-behaved._

Well-behaved. Another word for dull.

_In any case, Miss Cavendish does not play an instrument, but she has a great appreciation for classical music. So much so that at her main estate in England, she is hosting a two week house party, and several talented musicians will be attending. Miss Cavendish has graciously extended a last minute invitation._

_I am sorry we can't come home and be with you, but it promises to be a wonderful experience, and an opportunity to make new friends. We wouldn't, if not for Takano-san, but you seem to do alright with just the two of you, so we accepted. I hope you understand._

_We shall return in a little more than two weeks, my dear. I look forward to hearing you play again - Alessandra and her friends are a delight to listen to, but your father and I miss your peaceful, delicate sound. You do practice while we are away, don't you?_

_I will try and find time to write to you again, but if I don't, I hope you continue to do well, and as always, I hope something wonderful and exciting will happen for you._

_- _

_Love,_

_Mother_

But wonderful, exciting things did not happen to girls like Shoko.

Just confusing, dreadful things.

She tucked the letter back in the envelope, and put it in the drawer with all the others.

* * *

_ "Shoko-chan . . . Shoko-chan!" Kahoko's voice carried on the wind, and the lovely girl tried to pull her hair back, but to no avail. She laughed as the breeze blew it back into her face, and Shoko laughed with her, tucking her own hair behind her ears as she ran towards Kahoko._

_"Aren't the daisies beautiful?"_

_Shoko slowed, an unpleasant feeling drifting into the peaceful atmosphere, but she shook it off and smiled back at Kahoko, who was holding out a hand to her. Shoko took it, stepping forward, farther into the field, but slipped. The two girls went tumbling to the ground, giggling._

_Shoko felt very strange. Happy. Not at all shy, or nervous, or wary. It was a beautiful day, and yes, the daisies were beautiful, too. So many of them . . . though she wondered, for a moment, why they were in a field of daisies. And where had a field of daisies come from? But the day was too pretty to spend thinking about things like that, and she pushed the hair out of her face as she and Kahoko sat up before leaning on each other's shoulders._

_"It's so pretty out here," Kahoko said, plucking two little daisies from the ground and absentmindedly tying them together. Shoko nodded, inhaling the fresh air._

_Kahoko glanced down at her handiwork, and her face lit up._

_"Shoko-chan, have you ever made daisy chain crowns?"_

_"Daisy chain crowns?"_

_"Yes. We'll be like princesses. Princesses of daisies." Kahoko laughed, and Shoko smiled, running her hands through the grass._

_"I haven't. I . . . I never had anyone to make them with."_

_"Well, you do now. Come on, you just tie the daisy stems together in a circle about the size of your head, and then you put it on. Let's do it!"_

_"Okay," she agreed, and the two girls set to work on their daisy crowns. Kahoko hummed._

_Overhead, the sky in the direction they'd come from seemed to darken, and far across the field, Shoko thought she saw the grass wilting and turning grey, like a black and white picture._

_But that was unreasonable. She ignored it, working diligently on her daisy crown._

_The darkened clouds built on towards them, and steadily, the field began to turn grey, the daisies crumpling to the ground._

_Kahoko did not seem to notice until the greyness was close to them and there were no more daisies around them._

_"Oh no . . . the daisies, Shoko! They've all died. How will we finish our crowns? You can't be a princess without a crown, and if you're not a princess, you don't have a prince."_

_Shoko glanced down at her daisy crown, and realized that both she and Kahoko needed only one more daisy each. Her heart sank, and the sky overhead rumbled, the thunder cracking. She and Kahoko huddled closer, as across the field, the rain started, coming steadily closer to them._

_And then, as it neared, a figure appeared, against all that grey. It rained on him, soaking him through, but he retained color, and finally, he came upon them._

Blue,_ she thought. _Everything else is so grey, but he has such lovely colors . . . _He stepped closer, and she realized he was very handsome. He looked so familiar, and something tugged at her heart. Kahoko squeezed her hand._

_He came even closer, and Shoko saw that he held something. A daisy, but just one. The only daisy left. Her heart raced, and he came to a stop just in front of them. She and Kahoko stared at him with wide eyes._

_He leaned down and spoke._

_"Kahoko." His hand, with its long, elegant fingers, grasped Kahoko's, turning her palm upward, and he put the daisy in her hand. Kahoko stared at it, then back at him, before she clutched it to her chest, then tied it into her crown, completing the circle. He took the crown from her, and she looked down shyly as he put it atop her head._

_"Princess Kahoko," he said, his voice cool and warm all at the same time as he took her hand once more, drawing her up with him. She smiled, that lovely, sunny smile of hers, and Shoko thought she felt her heart twist. It was so cold here. And she was all wet._

_And then the familiar, beautiful blue haired boy led Kahoko away, and they walked along, the sky clearing over their path._

_"N-No!" Shoko cried out without thinking. Several yards away, Kahoko slowed, turning around and giving Shoko a questioning smile. The young man stopped, too, turning around and looking startled to see Shoko there._

_"Are you alright, Shoko?" Kahoko called._

_The rain poured down atop her head, soaking her, and Kahoko smiled kindly at her, radiant and happy in her little trail of light and flowers. Shoko felt sick._

No. No, please don't leave. Please don't take him away from me. I'm not alright. I need . . . I need . . .

_And Kahoko waited for her response, patient, but glowing. Happier than Shoko had ever seen her, happier than when they'd been laughing in the daisies or tying them together._

_"I . . . yes, I'm fine," and she smiled back at Kahoko, happy Kahoko, who nodded and turned back to the boy, who smiled, too, a smile full of warmth. And they walked away, and Shoko knelt quietly, her knees sinking into the muddy, smashed daisies while it rained and rained . . ._

She woke up crying, thinking of daisies and Len and stormy weather, and wondering why.

* * *

**_Monday Afternoon _**

* * *

The lunch bell erupted into a shrill ring that went on for several seconds before fading into silence, initiating a rush of students who created a noise all their own. Shoko slowly, in a manner reminiscent of Keiichi's halting steps across the stage, gathered her things, one eye on her task and one eye watching, waiting for the students to clear out of the classroom so she wouldn't be caught and hurtled around in the crowd. Maneuvering around and through large groups of people was very hard to do when you were desperately trying not to make eye or physical contact with anyone. 

So Shoko waited, and when the crowds had thinned as people made their way to the cafeteria, Shoko slipped out the door and quietly followed.

Or she would have, had fate not been bored and full of mischief.

"Fuyuumi-san."

She nearly jumped, and slowly, ever so slowly turned. Her ears had not been mistaken - they never were - and her heart resumed the thudding tempo it had already become familiar with. Len was standing there, looking distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little disgruntled, despite his efforts towards a neutral expression.

"Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she stuttered, hoping she didn't look as horrified as she felt. She waited, unconsciously holding her breath. He paused for a long time, glancing around as if trying to decide what to say. Finally, his jaw tightened and he looked straight at her - that was five years off her life, no doubt - and spoke.

"Come with me," he commanded, and turned and began walking without waiting to see if she followed, though she suspected that this was less out of rudeness so much as a lack of concern for what she did or did not do now.

She looked at his retreating back worriedly. Whatever it was he had not been able to find a way to explain was probably something she wanted nothing to do with. _Come with me._

And of course, like the fool she never was, Shoko followed.

"Um . . . Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she began, and flinched. She couldn't even get his name out with stuttering! How was she going to survive walking down what had suddenly become a dark, endless corridor leading straight to hell? She pressed on, feeling not unlike a nervous sacrifice. "Where are we going?"

"To one of the music rooms." He did not elaborate, and Shoko, fairly certain he didn't want to play a duet, was left with more questions than answers. She settled into resigned silence, and counted the tiles, lest she end up studying her companion too closely. She had already done enough of _that._

The count had reached two-hundred-twenty-nine when they stopped outside the second music room. Len straightened and opened the door, and to her surprise, there were people waiting inside.

"Good job, Tsukimori-san!" Kazuki waved excitedly, and gave her a friendly smile. "Hi, Shoko-chan. Sorry we're taking up your lunch hour . . . but we thought you would want to be part of this too."

What, were they forming a cult? She glanced around the room, and Len stalked over to a wall, folding his arms and looking annoyed. He did a lot of that, she thought. It was starting to become less threatening and more . . . _endearing._

Endearing? She was losing it.

In separate places around the room, the former participants of the concourse stood, wearing a wide range of expressions. Well, Keiichi was propped against the wall and looked suspiciously vacant, but the rest of them stood, Ryotaro raising his eyebrow at the irritated Len, Azuma surveying the scene before him with a little smile, and Kazuki still looking like he'd just had three cups of coffee and an epiphany.

"Um, it's fine . . . but why am I here?"

"Ah, we'll get to that . . . did Tsukimori-san explain anything to you? And thanks for getting her Tsukimori-san." The look Len shot Kazuki was less than gracious.

"No . . . um, he just came and told me to come with him . . ." Shoko explained uncertainly. Leaning against the piano, Ryotaro looked skywards, and next to him, Azuma laughed lightly.

"Oh, my. I'm surprised you're here, Fuyuumi-san," he said, giving her a warm smile, and she ignored the sudden urge to quickly back out the door and instead returned the smile nervously. To her left, Len seemed to be approaching the Tree stage of irritation, as Shoko had come to know it. She edged away.

"But it's good that you are, Shoko-chan. See, I thought . . . Kahoko has been so great to all of us, and since we haven't all seen much of each other since the end of the concourse, we should have a little party. In honor of Kahoko. It'll be a surprise," Kazuki explained, and Shoko imagined him as a dog, his tail waving enthusiastically as he darted around the music room in poorly contained excitement. She shook her head to clear the picture. _I need to sleep more._

She thought for a moment. The idea had merit. Kahoko had done a lot for everyone, and Shoko knew everyone in this room, including herself, jumped at any chance to see her. It was a solid plan.

"Okay. That sounds like a good idea," she agreed quietly, and Kazuki pumped a fist in the air. "Ah, when were you thinking . . .?"

"Next Saturday. Len already asked her if she was free, and she is, so we have a little less than a week."

Shoko, who's heart had just stopped and was going into shock, did not really care how long they had. She was still reeling from the blow which had just been dealt her.

All weekend, she had replayed the scene, examined her feelings, and fought back tears and all sorts of weighty emotions.

And she had misinterpreted it. The hell she went through. The crushed flowers, the stammered explanations to Takano, the restless nights and the strange dreams that had her flitting in and out of consciousness. Because of a misunderstanding.

If she hadn't still been motionless, she would have leaped forward and strangled Kazuki.

"Are you unwell, Fuyuumi-san?" Azuma was giving her a charming, yet somehow eerie smile. "You're very pale. Tsukimori-san, was she alright when you saw her Friday?" He turned his attention to the irritated blue haired boy, who barely spared her a glance.

"I don't know. I don't pay that much attention."

Azuma's brows lifted fractionally, and Ryotaro narrowed his eyes.

Len's statement certainly served to send the color racing back into Shoko's cheeks. Her face burned, and she wasn't sure who in the room she hated most at the moment. Kazuki, Azuma, or _Len._

Len didn't seem to even notice. Of course. Because he didn't pay that much attention. To her, at least. Because she was willing to bet that, with thought, he could tell them what Kahoko had ordered, every single thing she'd said, and probably even how many times she'd had her water glass filled.

_It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, _she clung to the thought, desperate not to feel this way. It was unreasonable, irrational, and it _hurt._

"Th-thank you, Yunoki-senpai, b-but I'm fine, I-I just . . . didn't sleep well. I'll be alright, th-though."

"Oh. I'm glad to hear it," he said, smiling brilliantly. She almost went and hid under the piano.

Kazuki glanced around the room uneasily.

"Ahaha, well . . . I'm glad you're okay, Shoko-chan . . ." he cleared his throat. "So, um, for the party! We should split into pairs. Each pair will be in charge of getting something for the party, and also, finding a joint gift. I thought that would be best, so you could get it done at the same time, and it might help you decide if you have two people thinking about it. Sound good?"

There were several nods of assent, Shoko's included.

"Okay! Um, Azuma-kun and I will take care of decorations. Tsuchiura-san and Shimizu-kun," Keiichi's head bobbed up sleepily at the sound of his name, "Can you guys get drinks and figure out some activities? Yeah? Thanks . . . so I guess that leaves -" Kazuki stopped, but apparently didn't dare amend the arrangements and have to explain why. "Well . . . Shoko-chan, Tsukimori-san, can you take care of food?"

Shoko swallowed. Of course. Of _course. _She should never have followed Len down the hallway. She should have just gone back into the classroom, stuffed herself in a cabinet, and hoped nobody found her until it was too late.

Len looked over and furrowed his brow slightly, before turning back towards Kazuki.

"Fine."

"Shoko-chan?"

_No. No. Absolutely not. No, no, no, no, no._

_"_O-okay."


	6. Everybody Loves Dinosaurs

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read! I had a day off from school, and surprisingly, finished this. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed.

Additionally, thanks, Garowyn! I hope I did well, too. Though I confess I died a little inside when I read the second half of your review. It's a long story that involves me confusing days and having to erase three pages because I thought they didn't have school on Saturdays. I am glad I know now – thanks! I'm sorry for the inaccuracy . . . I should probably have googled it.

And lovescent, thank you . . . I'm glad to know you liked it, and yes, it is going to be Shoko/Len. Sorry things were kind of unclear . . . I just figured the books have Len pretty clearly with some complicated feelings towards Kahoko, and I thought it might be unrealistic for him to abruptly switch affections.

Dream Cager, thank you, I appreciate your support a lot (but I must admit, I'm feeling a _little_ intimidated. Can't be helped). The dream, I agree, was a little childish, but I think a lot of dreams are weird like that. Though this one was unrealistically coherent . . . er, in any case. I'm sorry the last chapter was not so enjoyable, and I hope this one was more so. And believe me – as a reviewer, you are helping me a lot, both by providing advice through your feedback, and also giving me a confidence boost and motivation. I, er, have motivation issues sometimes. So thank you very much for your help!

Please enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading!

* * *

_**Wednesday Afternoon**_

* * *

"Are you okay, Fuyuumi-san?"

Shoko, rather than getting used to the question, was beginning to get sick of it.

Nakamura, a classmate of hers, looked at her with concern, and Shoko flushed, straightening up from her position leaning over the sink. She hadn't heard anyone come in. She'd been too focused on trying to stay calm and gear herself up for what was to come.

"I d-don't feel well . . . but I'll be f-fine."

"Oh," the girl looked curiously at her. "You looked really pale for a second . . . well, at least school is over, so you can go home now, right?"

Shoko's stomach was acting like a water bed with children jumping on it.

"N-no, I . . . I was going to go and practice before I left."

"I see . . . if you're sure you're up for that. Well, I hope you feel better soon. I should go," Nakamura ran a hand through her hair and examined her reflection before giving a little wave. "'Bye, Fuyuumi-san," and she was gone.

Shoko glanced at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to meet Len to go looking for Kahoko's present, and all she really wanted to do was slither down the drain like a stream of soapy water.

She supposed it was a good thing he'd had something to attend to right after school. If they'd left immediately, they might draw curious looks. They would, after all, be quite an odd pair.

She clasped her hands together and inhaled deeply. It would be wise not to forget that.

_13 minutes._

She swallowed, and combed her fingers through her hair in case there were any hidden tangles. They went through easily, and she studied her reflection in the mirror.

There were some shadows beneath her eyes, but other than that, she looked like she always did. A little nervous, but normal.

She felt anything but. If meeting Kahoko had sent her into a state of near-panic, the idea of meeting Len had her about to collapse onto the floor and start hyperventilating.

_Slow, deep breaths, Shoko. It's just an outing. Be quiet, be polite, and most importantly, find a gift as soon as possible and get out._

It was a solid plan, but she didn't have much confidence in her ability to carry it out.

_10 minutes._

She adjusted her hairclips, feeling more than a little paranoid. Something would go horribly wrong. It always did where he was concerned.

She backed away from the mirror and picked up her clarinet case. She might as well get there a few minutes ahead of time.

Shoko squared her shoulders, opened the door, and left the bathroom.

The hall was still crowded, but not as much, and students were making progress towards leaving. Still, it was an entirely different place from the restroom, which had seemed so still and quiet, like a room separate from the flow of time. She glanced back at it wistfully, the knots in her stomach tying together once more, and began a slow walk to the school gates.

By the time she arrived, she felt faint. A glance at her watch told her she still had five minutes. Five minutes in which to imagine all of the things that could and probably would go wrong.

And then all too soon, he was walking towards her, all smooth grace and that cold, distant face. The courtyard was clear but for a few people in transit, and any others who remained were inside the building doing who knew what.

_Slow, deep breaths, _she repeated. _Slow, deep breaths._

"Fuyuumi-san," he greeted her, nodding.

"Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she returned. She couldn't seem to get anything else out.

There was a brief silence, wrought with discomfort.

"Ah, th-then, shall we g-go?" The plan for the afternoon had actually come from her, which was astonishing, given that in their conversation after the meeting in the music room she'd been desperate to run home and kill herself for doing something so stupid as agreeing to this arrangement, and Len had been not forthcoming with ideas. He'd been silent, she'd been desperate to leave, he'd continued being silent, and finally she'd stammered out that they should walk through the shopping district close to the school and look in whatever shops seemed promising. He'd made some noise of consent, and Shoko had clumsily bid him farewell before fleeing for her life.

"Fine," was all he said in response, and she hesitantly took the initiative and began walking. It bothered her, having to make decisions. If something went wrong, she would be blamed for it, and even if she wasn't, she'd spend the next several days torturing herself over it.

Though, as the silence drew on and they walked, she wondered if perhaps she was an amateur when it came to torturing herself. The long walk brought things to a whole new level.

Shoko racked her brain for good, safe, polite-but-unobtrusive conversation.

"U-um, s-so how was y-your day, Ts-tsukimori-senpai?" Drat it all, if she didn't learn to say his name without repeating the first syllable twice by the end of the day, she was going to toss herself down the stairs when she returned home.

He glanced down at her, looking vaguely irritated. Half of her wanted to shrink farther away, and half of her wanted to smile at the expression. She was surely going mad.

But then, if she weren't going mad, she wouldn't be here, would she?

"Fine."

She waited for him to elaborate or politely return the question.

He did not.

She was annoyed and relieved all at once. A mess of contradictions. She hated that he did that to her.

She liked it, too.

It took all of her willpower to resist holding up her clarinet case and beating her head against it because those thoughts led one down a winding, confusing, terrible road where you finished with more questions than answers.

The relieved part won the struggle. He'd made it clear that he didn't want to talk, and though the little devil in Shoko that she hadn't really been aware of until now wanted to talk just to annoy him, she was glad she didn't have to say anything.

Which left the uncomfortable silence, and was it just her imagination or was his mood becoming darker and darker as they went on? The reality of walking down the road with Len was beginning to hit her and the anxiety came crawling back. By the time they reached the beginning of the shopping district, she could hardly hear, her heart was racing so fast. The silence drew on and on and on. She wasn't sure what to do with her clarinet case - poor planning, to not have thought of that problem - and it took all of her effort not to fidget like mad.

She spied an old fashioned toy store. An array of cute plushies lined the window, and Shoko, desperate for a change from this horrible walk, gestured to it with a shaking hand.

"Th-there . . . I think K-kaho-chan might like that s-sort of thing . . . w-we should look."

He looked at the shop with a grim expression.

"Fine," he said again, and stalked toward it like she'd suggested they go volunteer to clean the store lavatories.

Shoko followed him, but not without first considering running away.

However, she thought about what he might do to her if she abandoned him in a toy shop, surrounded by stuffed animals, and she hastily went after him.

It was a wonder the plushies didn't burst into flames beneath his gaze.

The clerk glanced up at them and he smiled. "Welcome . . . may I help you with anything?"

Len had already wandered over to the window, where he was regarding the display with distaste.

She looked back at the storekeeper and forced a smile.

"N-no thank you, we're just l-looking for, um, a present," she responded, embarrassed, as Len returned and looked at her expectantly, like he wanted her to conjure a suitable present so he could go home.

The clerk noted Shoko's red cheeks and nodded in seeming understanding before grinning at Len, apparently oblivious to the waves of irritation coming off of him.

"Ah, so you're here buying something for your gi-"

Shoko's eyes widened and she grabbed the nearest item.

"_I think she'll love this one!" _She exclaimed in panic, having realized the clerk's misinterpretation.

Len stared at her like she was insane, and Shoko took the opportunity to start breathing again and sneak a glance at what she'd picked up.

A velociraptor plushie.

_Oh dear lord._

"I-I mean . . . e-everyone loves d-dinosaurs . . . I . . . that is, um, h-haven't you a-always wanted s-something like this? I s-sure have." They both stared, dumbfounded. "B-but m-maybe n-not. Ah, um, l-let's, let's go . . . and . . . um . . ."

She cleared her throat, face on fire, and looked somewhere in the general direction of the clerk. "Th-thank you, b-but I think maybe we should . . . should go," and without waiting for the clerk to say anything or Len to follow, she rushed out of the shop.

She stopped before she ran into the street and oncoming traffic, but it took restraint.

Len came out seconds later, the cool default expression back on his face. He did not spare her a glance, though she wondered if that was out of consideration for her flaming cheeks and downcast gaze or a desire to erase her from existence.

She didn't speak when Len turned and entered a shop where a variety of hats, sunglasses, and accessories were on display. She was still trying to overcome her mortification and failing, and on the way there, Len's mood, if possible, had gotten even worse. She didn't dare look up. Oh, what he must think of her. Not only was she bizarre, she was useless. She suggested things like _velociraptor plushies. _Shame had her edging as far away from him as possible.

_He must be so annoyed with me._

He certainly seemed to be. The anxiety came back. She seemed to be facing at least another hour walking alone with him, forced to stand next to him while he towered over her, looking impatient and bored and making her feel like her heart would either give out or jump out of her chest.

But finally, after a few minutes following him through the store uselessly without really seeing anything, Shoko finally dared a glance at her companion, one hand gripping her clarinet case and the other clutching her skirt for dear life to keep from fidgeting too much. Or falling over.

Len was standing next to the display of brightly colored scarves in a variety of textures, looking for all the world like someone had asked him to pick up a gun and use his violin for target practice.

Though she was feeling slightly better, she remained dead silent. She didn't trust herself where he was concerned, especially not after the incident in the plushie shop. She might do something completely crazy again, and thus be obligated to bury herself alive in the yard.

The gardener, she thought, would throw a fit.

She continued to survey him nervously, ready to jump out of the way if he suddenly went into a killing rage. He was certainly emanating waves of murderous intent as he glared down at a yellow knit scarf.

"I'm not going to bite you."

She jumped about a foot in the air. He didn't even turn his head, just shut his eyes and exhaled irritatedly.

"E-e-excuse m-me?" This might be even more embarrassing than the velociraptor incident in the last store. She had not in a million years expected him to call her on her nervousness.

Len finally turned, his exasperation showing through the cold mask ever so slightly.

"I said, I'm not going to bite you."

A small squeak escaped her, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. He looked even more annoyed.

"Stop that."

"I-I . . . s-s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai. Wh-what do you mean?" She sounded like a snake, all s's.

He glowered at her.

"You look terrified. Stop it. It's distracting and unpleasant."

She flinched, flushing. She generally appreciated honesty, but Len's was razor sharp. The saddest thing was, his words weren't even meant to cut.

It was nice to know that she was a mere unpleasant distraction in his life. He could go home, forget unpleasant distractions, and think about Kahoko some more. And she could go home and agonize some more.

"I-I'm not trying to . . . I-" she stopped suddenly. A faint red dusted his cheeks. Her heart sank. _Oh. _Of course. She had been so focused on trying not to faint every time he so much as breathed, that she didn't realize how uncomfortable she was making this outing for him. Really, he was just as bad as she was when it came to social things, but in different ways. And she'd forgotten, preoccupied with her humiliation and nerves.

No, she thought, she would feel awkward having to go around with someone who flinched every time she moved, too. Not to mention who was crazy, but he didn't seem altogether bothered by _that _at the moment.

She suddenly felt like a terrible person. Her face turned an unattractive shade of red - again - but she was so used to it by now she gave it no thought. Len had gone back to his annoyed study of the scarves, and Shoko's hand instinctively reached out to hover lightly on his arm in a gesture of peace.

The moment it made contact with his sleeve, she yanked it back. He turned and looked expectantly at her, cold wariness edging his eyes, and she frantically tried to find the right words.

She ducked her head in a semblance of a bow, and spoke without meeting his eyes, fairly certain they would render her speechless and immobile.

"I-I . . . that was rude of me, Tsukimori-senpai," she spoke, shaking a little, but inwardly cheered when his name came out stammer-free. It appeared she'd live to see another day after all.

_Another day to try a little harder. But for what? Why does it matter?_

She pressed on.

"I don't mean to . . . to . . . I, with everyone, I . . ." How did you explain to someone that the reason they seemed to be able to make you wince or turn red with a single glance was because you were always socially inept, and at the same time, do so without letting on that while that was true, they were still the only one who could terrify and thrill you into a state of complete incoherency?

"It's fine," he cut her off, but - though it might have been her imagination - the words came out a little softer.

She nearly sighed in relief, and her heart danced to a funny tune. She thought she might be able to breathe again.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing at her with unreadable eyes before turning away.

"What do you think of this one?" He did not look at her again, but held out a fuzzy, neon orange and green plaid scarf.

Shoko stopped breathing again, at a loss.

Any other scarf but that one, and so happy was she to have met sort-of even ground with him she would have smiled brilliantly - okay, perhaps it would have been more of a petrified upturn of the lips - and told him it was a good choice, but this one was truly _repulsive._

Len was waiting tensely for an answer. She almost didn't dare discourage the choice, but at the same time, she didn't dare do that to Kahoko, who would kindly feel obligated to _wear _it.

Shoko did not pretend to be an expert on fashion, but she still had to wonder if Len was color blind.

"Ah, um, I . . . it's pretty . . . oh, but w-winter ends soon," she murmured regretfully.

Except not really.

He blinked.

"That's right. Okay." And he turned and ventured off into another part of the store, a pair of girls quickly edging out of the way of his brisk stride, and then doing a double take once they got a good look at him. They started whispering excitedly, giggling every now and then.

Shoko waited a moment before going with him, mulling over what she'd learned about him today.

How amazing. She felt almost as though the composed, cold young man she'd spent the last hour with should come with a "Fragile - Handle With Care" label, and at the same time she knew he could completely break her.

* * *

Finding Kahoko a gift had taken longer than it probably should have, but Len and Shoko had ended up going back and forth between a variety of places because A) neither of them had any suggestions or B) Len seemed to have some issues discerning what was an acceptable composition of colors. Shoko kindly avoided telling him so.

In the end, an hour and a half after the scarf shop, they came up with a pretty jeweled hair clip with curling, intertwined musical notes, and they'd each bought her a copy of a CD of one of their favorite musicians after Len hesitantly explained that Kahoko was unlikely to have amassed a collection of such things like they had. Shoko easily went along with it, glad to have found something at least a little more personal than just random trinkets that constituted 'safe' gifts.

And yet, the latter half of the trip had been almost . . . almost pleasant. Neither had said much, but it was a mostly comfortable silence.

By the time they left the music store, it was nearly six o' clock and they'd been out walking around for two and a half hours. Shoko was ready to go home and sleep, but they still needed to discuss plans for the food.

Six o' clock . . . about dinnertime. She swallowed. They'd been on their feet for some time and neither had eaten since lunch. Did she dare?

"Um, Tsukimori-senpai," she addressed him, relishing the inner glee that spread from being able to say at least his name without the stammer at the same time her fingers went tighter around the case handle. _Please don't sound like an idiot, please don't sound like an idiot. _"It's around d-dinner time, so maybe we should s-stop and get something to eat, because . . . while we figure out w-what to do." She waited.

He gave her another one of those unreadable glances that always left her wondering.

"Fine . . . where?"

She felt considerably relieved, but wasn't quite in the clear yet. Though she suspected she wouldn't quite be able to attain normal functionality until he was gone.

Looking around her at the street they'd walked up and down numerous times that day, she wondered if normal functionality was really so great after all.

"Um . . . ah, right. I think a f-few shops down, there's a place . . . I don't usually eat out, s-so I don't know where would be best . . ." she glanced apprehensively in the direction of the restaurant, hoping this wasn't a mistake.

"It's fine," he said. "Let's go."

They walked the short distance and entered the restaurant. Conversations fluttered, some loud, some politely hushed, and the lights were warm but not too bright. Several wooden tables were placed all around the room, most of them occupied, and the music quietly playing over the speakers was upbeat but unfamiliar. Shoko was relieved to find that many of the people eating were around their age. She would have felt silly walking into a nice restaurant full of adults while wearing her uniform, holding her clarinet case.

They were seated after about ten minutes, which she thought was rather fast, considering the crowd. She was thrilled when the smiling waitress, who was about their age and who's bun seemed perilously close to coming undone, directed them to a table set in the corner. Shoko, of course, liked corners best.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked as she handed each of them a menu.

"Water," they both requested, and Shoko suddenly realized how thirsty she was. They should have stopped and purchased some bottled water sooner, she thought. They'd been so distracted, trying to find something for Kahoko. She gave a rueful little smile. And in the end, they'd come out with things they could easily have thought of in the first place.

She glanced at her companion's hands, which rested on the table, his fingers drumming against it lightly, and she thought maybe she didn't mind that it had taken so long after all.

"Mkay, I'll be right back out with that," she said, and darted off.

The pair flipped open their menus, laminated sheets of white with bright blue borders, and after a few minutes Len shut his, apparently having decided.

Not long after, Shoko closed hers, and the silence that ensued was somewhat less comfortable than those that had taken place during the last hour.

Len returned to tapping his fingers against the table, one at a time in a graceful wave. She noted this action curiously.

_Clink._

Shoko leaned back, startled, as the waitress set the glasses on the table.

"Are you guys ready to order?" she asked, cheerfully whipping the pencil out from behind her ear, at ease.

Shoko wondered if she could ever pull off something like that. She would probably drop the pencil and then accidentally stab herself with it when she scrambled to pick it up.

They told the waitress their orders, and Shoko noted that both she and Len had taken the careful route with small, simple, safe dishes. She supposed neither of them were used to eating somewhere like this, and wondered at the astonishing difference between people's lives.

The silence descended once more.

_Right,_she thought. _The party._

"Um . . . about the food, for the party . . ." she began, and he nodded.

"Yes, I thought about it earlier, and I can have the house cook take care of lunch, I think. There aren't that many of us," he said, and paused. "Though I suppose some of us have . . . larger appetites."

She thought of Kazuki and laughed.

"Y-yes, that's true . . ." She stopped. He was giving her that odd look again. It made her skin tingle, and she felt unreasonably flustered. She wished he'd explain, say what he was thinking. She hastily took a sip of water and thanked her lucky stars that she didn't make any slurping noises.

Inspiration struck.

"Oh . . . Tsukimori-senpai, if you can arrange lunch, then, um, I thought for d-desert, I could order some cakes from the cake shop." She looked at his left ear while she waited for his response.

"Yes, that sounds fine."

Her brain let out a cheer. She was beginning to realize enough about him to know that "Yes, that sounds fine," was very nearly as good as, "Great idea."

Or she thought so. Maybe she was wrong and it really did sound fine and he just wanted to go home.

But . . . she frowned. If he'd already had plans for lunch, dessert wasn't so big a step from there, so why had they come in here to eat? Well, he was probably hungry.

But wouldn't the aforementioned house cook have something ready for him? Oh, but she had suggested it, and he might have just been polite. Yet that seemed uncharacteristically polite for him . . .

In the end, Shoko decided not to think too hard about it. Or rather, she didn't dare.

"O-okay . . . um, so if you can do lunch, I'll arrange dessert . . ."

He nodded in agreement.

And now, she thought, suppressing a sigh, the silence.

Len surprised her though. He _talked. _Well, a little.

"Oh. I suppose it ended up taking a long time . . . your parents aren't going to be upset that you're getting home so late?" The question surprised her. If he was going to start asking her things, she'd assumed they'd be about Kahoko. Or maybe he was looking for an excuse to leave early. It was so hard to read him.

"Ah, no . . . they're visiting friends e-elsewhere for the next couple of weeks . . . um, its just my housekeeper a-and I. She probably won't be so worried, s-since I don't go out much," she stopped. "Ah, I m-mean, that is, I don't, but it's not . . ." Oh, heavens. Shoko had never thought of herself as having poor thought-to-voice controls, but lately she wondered. "Um, what about you, Ts-tsukimori-senpai?" Drat it all, the stutter was back.

Len studied her for a couple of seconds before he looked away. Shoko thought his lack of clear expression might drive her completely mad, but she managed to continue sitting calmly without tearing out her hair.

He waited a moment, then spoke, hesitant. "My parents travel often, too, on tours. Though the maids and the cook leave in the early evening."

She looked at him thoughtfully.

"S-so you're alone, most of the time?"

He blinked.

"Yes, I suppose. I don't really notice."

She wondered if he was telling the truth, and then thought maybe he was. Shoko often forgot that she was by herself or that she was sad or afraid when she played her clarinet. She wondered if it was the same for Len. If all the energy he might have put towards relationships, he used to devotedly practice his violin, and if in return, it took away the emptiness.

"Oh. I see . . ." She wasn't sure what else to say.

"Do you see Kahoko often?" he asked, slowly turning the water glass in a circle on the coaster.

She had been expecting questions like that, but her mood dimmed slightly nonetheless.

"N-no . . . hardly ever, actually . . . I-it's strange, I think. I feel like she's done so much for me, yet at the s-same time, we barely know each other."

He nodded slowly.

"I see . . . it's true. One gains a lot from only a few encounters." He didn't elaborate, but then, Shoko figured, she hadn't either. "I ask because you seemed as lost as I was on the subject of what to buy for her. After Friday, I thought you two might be close."

Shoko bristled. _She'd _been lost?

But she was too honorable to bring up the subject of his color problems. That, and she knew he hadn't meant anything by it.

She exhaled quietly. He never did mean anything by it, yet she jumped to react anyways.

"Here we are," the waitress announced, setting Len's plate down and leaning over to give the other to Shoko, who had automatically inched as far back in the corner as she could.

Intending to be helpful, Shoko took it from her so she wouldn't have to reach as far, but her elbow hit her water glass.

The only half-empty glass went sideways, its contents spilling along the table and splashing off it.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, _Shoko thought, her eyes going wide. Len flinched.

Shoko shot to her feet, grabbing her napkin and hastily trying to mop up the water. She managed to get it to stop dripping off the side of the table, and Shoko hurried over to Len to help him dry off.

"H-here, I'm s-so s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai, I didn't . . . ah, let me h-help you," she apologized, sure she was red as a tomato. Of all the times to be clumsy . . . she checked his sleeves to see if they'd gotten wet, and dabbed at the stray water droplets, though they didn't seem to be the primary target of the water.

"Er, Miss, I wouldn't help, if I were you," the waitress said, looking embarrassed and amused at the same time.

"I-I beg your pardon?" Shoko glanced at her, then back at Len who, actually, seemed to be turning a little red, as well, looking horribly uncomfortable.

And she promptly realized that the water had, of course, gone into his lap.

The napkin fell out of her hand.

"O-oh! I-I-I - no, I . . . Ah, um, you should . . ." she picked it back up and handed it to him, mortified and unable to meet his gaze. "Should, um, that is . . ." _Ohgodohgodohgod. _She was surely going to faint.

"It's fine," he mumbled and, with as much dignity as possible, made his way to the men's room. Shoko nearly fell into her chair, face flaming, and the waitress dissolved into giggles. Her bun spiraled out of its twist and fell around her shoulders, the hairpin clattering to the table.

"I'm," she gasped, picking up the pin, "So sorry, and excuse me f-for saying so," she managed to get out between laughs, "b-but you should see your - your face."

Shoko, past the point of caring about being in a public place, buried her face in her arms and prayed for someone to kill her then and there.

Her prayers were not answered, and nor did the flush seem to be leaving her cheeks this time around.

_Note to self. Do not ever, ever, even if it was your fault, try and help dry someone off._

The waitress tentatively tapped her shoulder lightly.

"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to laugh. But it's alright, he seemed just as embarrassed."

Shoko lifted her head miserably.

"Er, there's no need to look so depressed . . . it wasn't so bad. Really, I'm sure you'll be laughing about it on your next date."

Shoko couldn't even find her voice to correct her.

Because who cared? Who cared what people thought? Shoko knew what it was and what it wasn't, and it certainly wasn't a date.

She did not know, however, what she wanted it to be.

* * *

The rest of dinner happened in mutually embarrassed silence, and Shoko hadn't recovered enough to argue with him when he paid.

_I'll just order an extra cake to send home with him after the party, _she decided.

They exited the restaurant to find that the sun had begun to set long ago, and it was mostly dark out. Shoko was desperate to escape so she could go home and toss herself down the stairs like she'd first planned. Although . . . the walk home was going to be rather eerie. She wasn't used to walking in the dark.

"Ah, um, thank you f-for dinner, Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she stammered, gazing at somewhere just beyond his head. "I g-guess we should b-both get home, it's s-so late."

He watched her for a moment, the streetlamp casting shadows all around him, and she fought an involuntary shiver. He could be rather unnerving sometimes. No, he was almost always unnerving, so she supposed she should say he could be a rather comfortable presence sometimes.

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then seemed to decide on something.

"I'll walk you home since it's dark out."

_Please don't. _Yet even as she thought that, some rebellious part of her, the part that had enjoyed the evening, humiliating incidents aside, and wished it would continue, thought, _Please do._

"I-I . . . that is, it i-isn't n-necessary, but th-thank you."

He shook his head.

"It is. Either your housekeeper or your parents would disapprove if I didn't see you to your house. It's not really safe, anyways. It would be stupid to walk home alone at this hour."

She would have determinedly declined his offer, especially after him implying she was stupid for doing so, but she'd been nervous about the walk to begin with, and he was right. Takano would come after him with kitchen knives, and it really would be stupid to walk alone.

"O-okay . . . th-thank you, Tsukimori-senpai."

He simply nodded and began walking. She followed, careful not to walk too close, and at the same time, not so far apart that it would be obvious.

_And the evening had been going so well, _she thought. Not so much now. The breathing problems had come back.

She studied the pavement as they walked, listening to the sound of his footsteps matched with his quiet breathing, the latter somewhat more difficult to hear.

He was a quiet person. She wondered if he wished he could fade into the background sometimes, like she was able to. She frowned a little. He could never do that. Len was a conspicuous person. Tall, graceful, elegant . . . he had far more presence than he seemed to realize.

The fact that he was so handsome - and she thought this in a purely observational manner. Really. - probably made it even worse.

She wished she knew. Wished he would tell her if she was right or wrong about him, and if she was wrong, she wished he'd tell her the truth.

But he didn't tell people, just as she didn't, and much as she respected that, she still wished . . .

"You turn here, right?" he asked, and she'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized they'd reached her and Kahoko's cross streets. _He has a good memory._

"Y-yes . . . it's down this street, but we t-turn at the first right, and it's at the end of that one," she explained. She found it slightly easier not to stutter when she was giving directions instead of having a conversation.

"I see."

And down the street they went, retracing the steps Shoko had taken while she'd tried to keep her composure on Friday. They turned, and followed the path she'd run.

Some of the ache in her chest came back at the memory, and it felt strange to walk this street with him next to her, as if Friday had never seen her running down it, desperate not to feel so bad.

Before she knew it, they'd reached her house.

"Y-you don't have to walk all the way to the d-door with me, of course," she told him quietly, trying to shake the strange feeling.

He hesitated.

"Alright."

"Ah, thank you v-very much for dinner, and for t-taking so much time to look for a gift. I had fun."

Shoko blinked. Had she really said that? But it was true. Somewhere in between the sort-of understanding next to the scarves and the unfortunate incident with the water glass, she had had _fun. _With him.

He looked equally taken aback.

"I . . I'm glad," but the words were not as smooth as his others. She turned red. What an awkward thing to say. Len had no doubt seen it as an unavoidable errand to be taken care of, and she was babbling about fun.

"Ah, um, then, thank you for w-walking me home. G-good night. Please get home s-safely."

He nodded, that unreadable expression back on his face.

"Good night."

Shoko turned and slowly walked up the path to the house, telling herself it would be silly to turn around. But when she opened the door, she couldn't help it. She glanced back.

Len was only a few feet away from where they'd been standing. Strange. He must have stood there for a long time before he started walking.

She shut the door behind her, and as she went upstairs and got ready for bed, Shoko wondered.


	7. Out of the Window and Into the Fire

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except Takano and Usaki, but you probably knew that.

A/N - Sorry this is so late. Now I have APs coming up, and I have to do extra studies because I got my SAT scores back a couple weeks ago and I guess they weren't good enough, so my parents are making me retake it and if I don't get a higher score I will probably be killed. Not that I'm stressing or anything.

I apologize beforehand. The plot in this chapter is so weak you could blow on it and it would shatter.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, and to I'mEmoCuzMySisSaidSo. I don't know how the word cello made it's way in there, but I appreciate your catching it.

I truly thank you guys for your kind words and feedback. You don't know how much they help me - they always make a rough day not so bad after all.

That said, please enjoy, and hopefully it's not disappointing!

* * *

**_Saturday Afternoon_**

* * *

"Fuyuumi-san . . . you look awfully pretty today," Takano remarked as she looked up in surprise. Shoko's cheeks darkened a little, and she clutched her bag to her chest, resisting the urge to run back upstairs and adjust her hair or change her clothes for the fifth time.

"Um, ah, thank you, Takano-san," she mumbled. She was already feeling nervous, and she hadn't even left the house. This did not bode well.

"Where are you going, again?"

"T-to a party, for Kaho-chan . . . remember? I went t-to get her a gift on Wednesday."

"Oh, I see . . . Right, tell Tsukimori-san I said thank you for seeing you home that night. You probably told him not to, so I'm glad he insisted."

"Er . . ." Shoko looked away uncomfortably. Takano glanced at her wryly.

"Thought so. Well, you do look lovely," she said again warmly. "It's a good thing your mother isn't here," she added, smiling a little.

Shoko resisted a shudder. If Mother were here, she would have taken this opportunity to play dress up with Shoko, who would end up refusing to leave the house out of shame. What was acceptable for one of Mother's parties was not acceptable for one of Shoko's.

Not that Shoko really knew what was and wasn't good for this sort of thing. She never went to this sort of thing.

Hence her nervousness.

"Um . . . d-do you really think this is o-okay?" She looked down at her clothes, a light blue cap-sleeved blouse and a knee length navy skirt with matching low heeled mary janes. She was torn between feeling overdressed and wondering if she looked boring.

Takano set down the dishtowel she was holding and looked at Shoko.

"You look great, Fuyuumi-san. Don't worry. Just have fun today, okay?"

Shoko fidgeted with the pleats on her skirt once more and sighed.

"A-alright . . . if you s-say so. Um, I better go pick up the c-cakes, I don't know how l-long that'll take . . ."

Takano nodded.

"Are you walking, or is Usaki-san driving you?" Usaki was the Fuyuumis' driver, a twenty something girl who's quirks and enthusiasm had appealed to Shoko's parents. Shoko both admired and feared her.

"Usaki-san is, I'd be afraid of b-being late if I walked."

"Okay, then . . . I hope everything goes well. Don't forget to thank Tsukimori-san," she said with a knowing smile. Shoko wondered what exactly she knew that Shoko didn't.

"Um . . . I w-will. 'Bye, Takano-san!" Shoko waved, and went out the door.

Usaki was already waiting with the car. She grinned widely when she spotted Shoko.

"Fuyuumi-san! You look gorgeous. What's his name?" she asked, winking.

Shoko turned red. Usaki had that ability.

"Um, w-what? I . . . there's a p-party, with all of the p-people from the concours," she responded, walking toward the door Usaki had opened for her. "But we need to s-stop at this cake shop f-first to pick up the cakes."

"Oh, darn. So there's no boy?"

Shoko avoided her gaze as she slid into the back seat.

"N-not at all."

There was a long pause.

"Huh. I see. Well - do you know where the cake shop is, or shall I look it up? I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with some of the cafes."

"Ah, it's over in the sh-shopping district next to s-school. I'll show you once we g-get there."

"Okay, thank you. Are we ready, then?"

Shoko nodded, and Usaki shut the door before going around to the driver's seat.

As the car began to move, Shoko leaned back into the seat, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She felt so nervous. Not as sick nervous as she had before meeting Len on Wednesday, but a sort of fluttery, lightheaded nervous.

And they weren't even heading towards Kazuki's house for the party yet.

She wished she had a compact mirror, but the only one she owned - a gift from her hopeful mother - was somewhere in the back of a bathroom drawer with all of the other cosmetics given to her over the years. She'd never seen any reason for them.

But if only she'd thought to bring the mirror. An apprehensive glance out the window suggested a slight wind - what if her hair went crazy and she showed up looking like she'd rubbed her head on a wool blanket?

"Fuyuumi-san, you okay? You look a little panicked. Something the matter?"

Shoko inhaled deeply, nodding at Usaki in the mirror.

"Um, it's f-fine . . . I just . . . er, well . . ." Usaki would probably understand.

On the other hand, she might ask questions. And tease Shoko mercilessly.

"I-I was thinking, it's w-windy, and my hair might . . . I d-don't have a mirror."

With any luck, that made sense.

Usaki's lips twitched.

"I see," she said, with a knowing smile similar to Takano's earlier one.

Shoko reisted the urge to glower, and clenched her fists. What was with everyone today? Had Shoko just woken up oblivious?

"Well, Fuyuumi-san. Since you seem unusually nervous about this, I would be happy to lend you one of my compact mirrors."

Suspicion and relief warred within her.

"Um, if you're sure . . ."

"I'll get it out at the cake shop."

So far, so -

"So who is it you're wanting to impress?"

_Drat it all!_

"Um . . . w-what do you mean? M-my senpais will be th-there, of course, and I wanted t-to look nice for Kaho-chan . . ."

"Which senpais are these, again?" Usaki was watching her like a hawk. Shoko swallowed, trying not to let her alarm show.

"Th-the students from the c-concours."

"And they are?" she asked, glancing back towards the fairly empty road.

"Um . . ." How to do this? Usaki was the sort who would definitely draw conclusions from little things, even if they were incorrect. If she said Len's name first, Usaki might jump on that - not, of course, that the majority of her nervousness today was because of him - but she couldn't say it last or that would have the same effect.

She quickly picked up her sentence.

"Kaho-chan, of course . . . Yunoki-senpai, Kazuki-senpai, Ts-tsukimori-senpai," It was all she could to do to keep her face from melting into horror. How could this have happened? It was critical that she list them nonchalantly, without any variance in tone or expression, and then she had to go and stutter. "And Shimizu-kun."

She crossed her fingers and prayed. Then waited. Usaki seemed to be mulling something over.

"I remember the others, but _Tsukimori _sounds unfamiliar." A little piece of Shoko died inside. "Tell me more about him, to help my memory? I can hardly leave you in the hands of strangers." Usaki's tone was far too innocent as she spoke, turning the wheel to the right and onto the school street.

_Yes, yes you could. Please do. Maybe one of them will be kind enough to put me out of my misery so I don't have to find myself in a series of extremely awkward, uncomfortable situations, because it appears to be happening A LOT._

_"_O-oh?" she said instead, trying for the same amount of innocence. "Tsukimori-senpai? Um, he's the other violinist."

She hoped that would suffice.

"And?"

_She hates me._

"W-well . . . he, um, he's the one with the blue hair. K-kind of tall."

"I see . . . oh, I think I remember. He's really handsome, right?"

_Devil woman!_

"O-oh, well, I-I don't know . . . I h-haven't really spent th-that much time with him."

"Yes, but if I recall correctly, he was the sort of handsome that you notice on sight, whether you know him or not."

Shoko mentally slumped in misery and wondered briefly why her parents couldn't hire a quiet, bland driver who didn't feel the need to torment her.

"W-well, you know I don't . . . don't look at p-people's faces."

"Huh. I see."

There it was again. The knowing smile. Shoko was going to go crazy if people kept doing this to her.

Oh no . . . did Takano think that, too?

She wanted to scream, _It's not like that!! _But if it wasn't like that, then what was it like? What exactly was IT?

"Alright then, Fuyuumi-san, where do I turn?"

"Um, turn left here," Shoko said, gesturing. "And then go down this street, it's towards the end. The Sugar Garden Cafe."

"Sounds yummy. Have you been there before?"

"Yes, with Kaho-chan and Tsu-" Shoko halted. Having spoken without thinking, she'd almost walked straight off of a cliff.

Usaki's eyebrows shot up, and after she finished parking and killed the engine, she swiveled in the driver's seat, her gaze like a spear, which made Shoko the fish it was about to go through.

"Tsu?" she prodded.

She would have lied, but Usaki seemed to have a sixth sense.

"W-well . . . Tsukimori-s-senpai, but . . . um. He . . . it was c-coincidence. It was supposed t-to be just Kaho-chan and me."

That actually was the truth, but in her evident desire to see Shoko turn into a nervous wreck over a boy, Usaki might not believe it.

But she did. Looking disappointed, she propped her elbow on the top of the seat.

"Well, darn. Hey, wait, you said you hadn't spent that much time with him."

"I-I haven't!" It was a good thing she didn't know about Wednesday.

"Sitting down for cake is more than enough time to notice he's gorgeous. That you insist you haven't, or that you've avoided noticing, is just proof that you actually have noticed."

"F-fine! So he's, um, rather h-handsome. It doesn't matter t-to me."

Usaki tilted her head and looked at Shoko with sympathy.

"Yes, it clearly does," she said gently. Shoko said nothing for a moment, a variety of feelings bubbling up. Resentment for Usaki's nosiness, discomfort at the fact she might be right, and something akin to hurt. It wasn't her fault she felt like this. She didn't want to care.

At least, she was pretty sure she didn't.

She reached forward and pulled on the door handle.

"I-I, um, I should go get the cakes, I d-don't want to be late."

Usaki looked at her for a long time before she sighed and turned back to the front.

"Alright. Do you have your wallet with you?"

Shoko nodded, and without waiting for a reply or another question, stepped out and went into the cake shop.

"Welcome!"

The girl at the counter was the same one who had waited on them last Friday. Shoko smiled tentatively.

"H-hello . . . um, I'm here t-to pick up some cakes?"

"Certainly," she said, pulling out a sheet. "Last name?"

"Fuyuumi."

The girl scanned the list.

"Ah, here we are. Let me run back and get them, it'll be just a moment," she told Shoko, and then hurried through two doors leading to the kitchen.

Shoko folded her hands atop the glass counter, and looked at her shoes while she waited.

The doors swished open, and the girl was back, carrying a bag.

"A Strawberry Tango, a Funky Fruit Tart, and," she smiled here. "A Dark Castle Cake. Right?"

"Y-yes . . ." Shoko was wary of smiles today.

"That will be 3,920 yen, please."

She handed over two bills, and the girl gave her some coins for change.

"The Dark Castle Cake is for Mr. Tsukimori, isn't it?" the girl asked as Shoko snapped her wallet shut.

"Um . . . yes, it is . . ."

The smile turned into a grin.

"What did he do to deserve a whole cake?"

"W-well . . . um, he paid for d-dinner the other night, so I thought . . ." she trailed off.

"So you guys are dating?" she asked curiously.

"N-no! W-we . . . um, the cakes are for a p-party for the girl that was with us, um, and we h-happened to go find a present t-together." The floor never seemed to swallow her up when she wanted it to.

"Oh . . . I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to pry, but . . . well. Mr. Tsukimori seems so mysterious. I was just wondering," she apologized, looking embarrassed, but not nearly as much as Shoko did.

"I, um, it's okay. Ah, th-thank you, but I should hurry if I'm going t-to be on time."

"Oh, yes! Sorry to take up your time like that. Please enjoy the cakes, and have a nice day!"

"Th-thank you, you too," Shoko returned, and gratefully swiveled around and started making a beeline for the door.

"And Miss?" the girl called out hesitantly, causing her to halt and turn her head.

"Y-yes?"

The girl gave her a little smile.

"I like your outfit . . . you look very pretty." Her eyes twinkled. "I think Mr. Tsukimori will think so, too."

Face flaming, Shoko couldn't even get out a response. She just hurriedly stumbled out the door.

* * *

"Alright, Fuyuumi-san, do you have everything you need?" The borrowed compact had been tucked away into her purse after extensive, frantic study of her reflection. The bag with the cakes and Kahoko's present was securely held in her left hand.

"Y-yes, I'm pretty sure."

"Okay . . . since you don't know how long this will go, you can call me when you need to be picked up. Do you have the number?"

She nodded, distractedly surveying the sky. It had been sunny earlier, but the temperature dropped and it was cloudier now. She hoped it didn't rain.

"Then, I guess, just have fun. Don't be too nervous." Usaki paused. "And Fuyuumi-san? I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to interrogate you earlier. It was out of line. I was just so excited, since you were behaving unusually, but in a good way."

"Ah, um, i-it's fine, Usaki-san. I understand." Even if she had been considering jumping out of the moving car.

"I'm glad. You should go on, then. I'll see you later!" She gave a little wave before closing the door behind Shoko and going back around to sit behind the wheel.

She waited until Shoko had gone up the path and Kazuki had thrown open the door and ushered her inside before driving away.

"Shoko-chan!! You're here! Tsukimori-kun brought the food over earlier, he's out getting Kahoko-chan now . . . anyways, he said you were bringing cakes?" Shoko glanced around the entryway. It smelled clean. She suppressed a smile, easily able to picture Kazuki scrambling to clean up for guests, hair tied back and sleeves rolled up.

She decided she liked his house; it felt comfortable, but still nice and open.

"Y-yes . . . A strawberry cake a-and a fruit tart, in c-case someone prefers it."

"Awesome!" Kazuki clapped his hands together and skipped a little. "You can put your stuff here," he said, gesturing next to the door. Several spaces were already occupied, in varying stages of tidiness as far as placement.

She slipped off her shoes and extracted the strawberry cake and the fruit tart, leaving Len's in the bag. She tucked her purse in with it, and grabbed Kahoko's present as an afterthought.

"Ah, you can put those on the table with the food and drinks, and the present by the loveseat," he said, leading her into a living room that connected to a dining area. There was a white tablecloth on the long, rectangular table, and various snacks and appetizers were placed upon it, along with some punch, soda, and tea.

In the living room, Keiichi was nodding off on a loveseat, while the tall and somewhat disgruntled Ryotaro was adjusting some hanging decorations under the command of a smiling Azuma, who greeted them when they entered.

Shoko wondered if Yunoki ever stopped being scarily polite and charming, but maybe that was really just his normal personality.

"W-wow . . . it looks really n-nice," she said, taking in the room. An artful canopy of streamers stretched above them, the ends running down the walls in various lengths. The table had little glass centerpieces and fresh flowers, and the doors leading to the small patio were thrown open. Classical music spilled from the speakers of a stereo set at the end of the table.

"Thanks!" Kazuki beamed. "I hope Kahoko-chan thinks so, too."

"I'm s-sure she will," she told him, setting out the two cakes where she could find space.

"Those look delicious," he commented, eying them with the typical interest of a teenage boy. She smiled.

"They're f-from Kaho-chan's favorite c-cafe."

"Great, then she'll -"

The doorbell rang. Everyone straightened, eyes going to the door. Kazuki practically ran to it, swinging it open with a huge grin on his face.

Len and Kahoko stood on the step, both looking as lovely and well-matched as ever. Kahoko wore an expression of confusion.

"I thought we were going to visit a violinist you thought I should meet . . .? Why is Kazuki-kun here?"

Len, as expressionless as usual, shifted and looked to Kazuki, who opened the door wider so she could partly see into the decorated living room. Shoko gave a little wave, and Azuma, Ryotaro and even Keichii came to stand with her in the doorway.

"Surprise!" Kazuki exclaimed, and Kahoko's mouth opened.

"S-surprise? What do you mean?"

"Well, it's a surprise party.. For you."

She gaped, staring at him.

"For me? Why?"

"Because you've done so much for us, we wanted to do something for you."

She seemed unable to speak for a minute.

And of course, tears filled her eyes. Shoko knew why, but Kazuki and Len looked alarmed.

"Eh?! What's wrong?" Kazuki asked worriedly.

Kahoko just wiped at her eyes.

"Sorry," she said, giving them a tremulous smile. A warm feeling enclosed Shoko's heart at her response. "I just . . . I wasn't expecting that . . . this is so nice of everyone, although, I don't know what I could have done to warrant this. And Tsukimori-senpai!" Her misty gaze took on a twinkle. "Shame on you for not telling me."

Len simply cleared his throat and looked at the wall. Azuma stepped forward and pulled out a handkerchief, which Shoko thought Kahoko seemed to be a little suspicious of, but she supposed Azuma was eerily dazzling enough to make anyone uneasy.

She dabbed at her eyes, and when she looked up again, she was grinning happily.

"Thanks, you guys . . . I don't even know what to say."

"You should thank Kazuki-kun, especially, it was his idea."

Kahoko took in this fact, and suddenly gave a startled Kazuki a quick hug before withdrawing in slight embarrassment.

"Thank you so much, Kazuki-kun . . . this is so sweet."

"W-well," Kazuki said, bright red and trying hard not to grin like a fool and failing, "Um, do you want something to drink, or to eat? Shoko-chan brought your favorite cake. And Tsukimori-kun's cook prepared snacks so . . . oh! And there are presents!" he said happily.

She looked at everyone worriedly.

"Presents? Isn't that going a little far? You really shouldn't have."

Kazuki waved a hand in dismissal.

"It's okay, we split up into pairs, so there are only a few," he gestured for her to follow him into the living room. Shoko and the rest cleared out of the doorway as they entered, and Kazuki directed her to the loveseat. He turned around and picked up one of the three presents stacked beside it before handing it to her.

She seemed to still be a little in shock as she accepted it, peering at the name.

"Shimizu-kun and Tsuchiura-kun . . ."

"Open it," Ryotaro instructed, a broad grin on his face. Shimizu's own sleepy face had a smile on it.

"Okay . . ." She hesitantly tore off the edge of the blue and white wrapping paper and withdrew the contents, a book of music scores - Shoko smiled a little at that; probably all three pairs had gone with something music related - and one of photography.

She smoothed out the wrapping paper on the seat next to her, and then ran her hands over the covers of the books.

"These are wonderful . . . thank you two so much . . . ahh, I still can't believe you all went through all this trouble, I feel so bad about it," she explained, hand on the back of her head in that way of hers. _Kaho-chan is so cute when she's flustered, _Shoko thought, feeling glad to be a part of this.

Kazuki and Azuma's present went next, a baseball cap and a stuffed blue teddy bear wearing a white ribbon with black musical notes on it - wow, musical paraphernalia was everywhere- most likely Kazuki's contributions, and an elegant hair comb with high-quality silk flowers arranged across the spine along with little sparkly gems, most likely Azuma's choice. She thanked them with the same laughing awkwardness she had the first two.

Lastly, Kazuki handed them Len and Shoko's gift.

"And this one is from Tsukimori-kun and Shoko-chan!"

Embarrassment momentarily forgotten, her face took on an expression of alarmed surprise, as if to say, 'You made Shoko-chan go shopping with _Tsukimori-senpai?!_'

_Yes, that's how I reacted, too, _Shoko thought wryly.

"Tsukimori-senpai and Shoko-chan?"

Kazuki laughed nervously.

"Er, yeah, but it seemed to go okay . . ."

Len raised an eyebrow, and Shoko tried hard not to giggle at Kazuki's frozen expression.

"Oh, well, um, let's see," Kahoko broke in hastily, peeking up at Shoko like she was looking for confirmation.

Shoko tilted her head and smiled back.

"O-open it," she said, and Kahoko looked relieved to know that Shoko had survived.

She would probably not believe that she had actually enjoyed it. But Shoko was strangely okay with keeping that a secret.

Like Wednesday evening was hers and hers alone.

Kahoko pulled out the blue tissue paper and set it down next to her, reaching into the bag and pulling out the carefully wrapped items.

"Ohhh . . . it's so pretty," she said upon seeing the pin. She ran her fingers over it's shining surface, smiling up at Len and Shoko. She set it down with her other gifts and removed the tissue paper from around the CDs.

"Yay!" she exclaimed. "This is great, I'd been wanting to get some more classical CDs . . . thank you two so much!"

Shoko blushed, pleased. She was so glad Kahoko liked them.

"Y-you're welcome, Kaho-chan," she murmured.

She peeked out of the corner of her eye at Len, who nodded in agreement, his face unchanged.

But she could read the awkward shift and flickering eyes. He was glad, too.

Next to Len, Azuma glanced at her with raised eyebrows, and Shoko's gaze snapped back to the floor, her face heating at having been caught looking at Len.

It warmed even more as she realized she was displaying a telltale blush.

_You shouldn't have looked, _she scolded herself.

But for once, she didn't feel that guilty.

"Do you want something to eat now?" Kazuki asked, and the group wandered over to the table.

As Kazuki served the cake and Ryotaro poured drinks, Shoko found herself standing next to Len, a both pleasant and uncomfortable thing.

"Fuyuumi-san . . ." she looked up, startled to find him talking, albeit hesitantly. "Thank you for taking care of dessert and wrapping the gifts. I hope you did not run into any trouble."

_How strange for him to say. _She thought her pulse might have sped up.

"Um, it was n-nothing," she said, trying not to smile. "Th-thanks for arranging the f-food . . . and you were in ch-charge of getting Kaho-chan t-to come, so . . ."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'm glad it was no trouble," he said, and turned to accept a cup of punch.

The brief, unreal seeming encounter was over, and as she took a sip of punch, she peered at him over the rim of the cup, wishing she knew what he was thinking. Why he'd said anything.

_Such a puzzling boy, _she thought, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of the drink before setting it down on the table and sitting down.

There was scattered laughter and conversation as they snacked, and after they were done, Kazuki stood up.

"Ah, next I thought we would play a game of charades . . ." Shoko winced. That would involve standing up in front of the rest of them and making ridiculous gestures.

She suspected she would not be very good at charades. She had never been good at letting go and having fun. Or communicating, especially without speech.

A look at Len's pained expression told her he was probably thinking along the same lines. Shoko wondered if Kazuki had recalled who exactly was invited to the party when he'd come up with the game.

Or maybe Azuma had. She noticed he seemed to like causing a little bit of mischief sometimes. At least, she was pretty sure he did. He couldn't possibly be oblivious to the effect some of what he said had on situations.

Kazuki briefly went over the rules in case someone had forgotten or was unfamiliar with the game, and they retreated into the living room. She sat next to Kahoko on the loveseat.

"I wrote some random things down on slips of paper and put them in a jar, so whatever you pick from the jar is what you need to act out," he said, setting the jar on one of the end tables.

"Er, I guess I'll go first," he said, plucking a slip out of the jar and going to stand in the center of the room. He looked at it for a moment before sticking it in his pocket and holding up two fingers.

"Two words," Kahoko offered helpfully, and he nodded, changing it to one.

"First word," she said.

He propped his foot up on some imaginary surface, put a hand on one hip, and held the other to his brow, peering out from beneath it.

Everyone studied him thoughtfully.

"Tourist?" she suggested.

He shook his head, giving her a weird look.

"Captain?" Ryotaro's guess.

_Close, _he gestured, changing his position. He sat on the floor, bent his elbows and pulled his fists in close in a rowing motion.

"Crew?"

Kazuki shook his head.

"Sailor?" This actually came from Len.

Kazuki jumped up from the floor, nodding, and held up two fingers.

"S-second word," Shoko called quietly, rather than taking her usual approach of _Be quiet and pretend you're not there._

He nodded, then made a circular motion with his hands before pointing upwards.

"Sun?" Kahoko's.

He made the _close _gesture again.

"Ah, then Moon," she guessed, and he nodded excitedly. She laughed.

"Sailor Moon," everyone stated in unison.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Who's next?"

Ryotaro lightly prodded Keichii, who had been watching the game dazedly.

"Shimizu-kun? Why don't you go, so you don't fall asleep?"

The boy blinked, and stood up, pulling out a piece of paper from the jar. He put it in his shirt pocket and stood in the middle of the room.

Keiichi held up two fingers.

"Two words," Ryotaro said.

A nod, then one finger.

"First word."

Keichii lay down, clasped his hands over his stomach, and closed his eyes.

"What? Don't fall asleep!" Ryotaro exclaimed irritably, but Keiichi shook his head and stayed as he was.

"What . . . oh. Sleep?"

Keichii held up a hand, the thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

"S-sleeping?" Shoko ventured, and he nodded, slowly getting up.

He held up two fingers.

"Second word," Kahoko confirmed.

He paused for a long moment, looking thoughtful. Then he fluffed his hair, and started turning his face, admiring himself in an imaginary mirror.

Everyone looked half-amused and half-baffled.

"Um . . . well, not vain . . ." Kazuki mused.

"Sleeping Beauty?" Azuma asked with a smile.

Keichii nodded, and Shoko couldn't help but laugh at the irony.

She stopped when she saw Len giving her another of his inscrutable looks, and studied her feet instead, wondering if he did that on purpose. She couldn't recall ever having done anything to annoy him. Except, of course, act like a terrified mouse whenever he was within a one mile radius, but who could blame her?

"Okay," Kazuki said. "Tsuchiura-kun, it's your turn, I guess, if we're going clockwise." He held out the jar cheerfully, and Ryotaro reluctantly withdrew a piece of paper before going to stand in the center and proceeding to mime out a variety of undignified things.

The game continued for a while after, and Shoko, as she laughed at the various boys' reticence and out-of-character gestures, and also nervously stumbled through her own roles at various points, was thinking how glad she was that the party had happened.

Which was always mistake. What was it she had always known well enough to be afraid of?

That something would go horribly wrong.

"I know," Azuma began when only a few slips remained in the jar. "Why don't we have a little dance, in honor of Kahoko?" That blasted smile was on his face, all teasing innocence, and Shoko's stomach sank.

"Eh? Oh, but that's -" Kahoko tried to argue, but Kazuki, clearly enthralled by the idea of getting to dance with her, jumped to his feet.

"No, no! Good idea, Azuma-kun! I'll find some music."

"I really don't think -"

"Tsukimori-kun," he said, him and his two rows of gleaming white teeth completely ignoring Kahoko. "Since you didn't really participate much in charades, it's only fair that you should dance with Kahoko first."

If anything, Kahoko looked more apprehensive. Len seemed to still be processing. Kazuki's face had fallen.

"Um, Yunoki-senpai . . . really, this is -"

"What?" Len.

Shoko felt like she was watching a trainwreck. She couldn't speak or do anything, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the horrifying scene.

"You're going to dance with Kahoko. How lucky," Azuma explained again to Len, who had stiffened in his seat. Azuma didn't _seem_ to be enjoying everyone's discomfort, and yet he couldn't be so daft as to not realize what he was doing.

"Alright," Kazuki said, standing and dusting himself off as the sounds of a lively orchestra began to come out of the speakers. He glanced towards the open sliding doors, where a slight wind came through, rustling the drapes and napkins on the table. Outside, the sky had darkened considerably. "I would have you go dance on the patio, but I think it might rain."

Azuma gave Len a light push in Kahoko's direction. It seemed that no one was going to make Shoko dance. She thought she should be relieved, that she should be grateful for their consideration, as everyone knew how shy she was.

But she was suddenly feeling strange. Like so many other times recently, she did not feel at all like herself.

"Go on, Tsukimori-kun. But don't monopolize her for too long."

Kahoko looked worried.

"Ah, Tsukimori-senpai, you don't have to . . ."

Shoko watched him reluctantly take one of Kahoko's hands in his, and set the other lightly on her waist. She clumsily rested hers on his shoulder, and the pair were off in a vaguely awkward twirl, Kahoko's feet stumbling. Around them, Azuma was smiling like he had just gotten away with murder, and Kazuki and Ryotaro had begun talking, though they each had one eye on the dancing couple. Shimizu seemed to have nodded off.

And Shoko sat quietly on the sofa, that awful, twisted feeling rising in her gut. Her chest hurt. She watched the pair across the room as Kahoko's steps gradually grew more comfortable, Len hesitantly tried to make conversation, Kahoko smiled encouragingly . . .

She was surely going to be sick. She felt dizzy and bewildered and hurt.

She stood and walked over to Kazuki. Kahoko and Len glanced over at her questioningly, and Shoko somehow forced a smile. Kahoko returned it and said something to Len, who immediately returned his attention to the redhead.

Shoko clenched her fingers.

"U-um, Kazuki-senpai . . . where is your r-restroom? I d-don't feel quite well, and thought I'd g-go freshen up."

"Ah, sorry you're not feeling well. It's the last door at the end of the hall . . . are you going to be okay?" he asked in concern.

_I wonder. _And she did. Would she be okay? It didn't feel like it. Everyday the feelings were like a worsening disease, and lately she thought they would consume her. Did it ever stop? Did she ever stop wondering, stop thinking, stop _wishing?_

"I sh-should be fine." And she darted into the hall, inhaling the lemon-scented air and feeling only slightly better to be out of the room.

Once in the safety of Kazuki's little powder bath, the open window rustling the curtains and letting in the pre-rain scent of the outside, Shoko gripped both edges of the sink and tried not to vomit.

She looked ghastly. Somewhere between saying goodbye to Usaki and watching Len spin Kahoko around the other side of the room, outlined by the blue-tinted light from the open patio doors, she had been visibly drained of color and energy. It might have been the lighting from the stormy sky, but she was pretty sure she was turning gray.

She stared at her reflection miserably, and then sank to the floor, clutching her knees. Her heart was pounding and her stomach had turned into an angry hurricane.

_I would rather jump out of a window than go back to the party._

A strong breeze lifted the hair off her neck, and feeling hurt and reckless and wishing nothing more than to disappear, she didn't stop to think. She just stood up, clamored up onto the lid of the toilet, and climbed out the window.

Once out, she eyed the open patio doors, heart racing. A strong wind whistled, pulling the trees in one direction, and she took the noisy opportunity to dash in the other direction without being heard, through the gate, which had swung open in the wind, down Kazuki's driveway, and safely to the sidewalk, where she began running.

_Running away? _she thought, shoeless feet hitting the pavement. She felt her stockings catch along the cement, but didn't stop. _Yes. Always running. What, _she wondered, moisture gathering in her eyes, _is so wrong with that?_

She continued running, towards home. It was a long way, though, and at some point, two or three streets away, she came across a bench. She slumped onto it, head back, the first few drops of rain hitting her in the face. She didn't mind. If anything, she was grateful. At least the weather seemed to know how she felt.

She hugged herself tight and silently cried, thinking too hard as always, wishing she had kept running until her sides hurt enough to distract from the ache in her chest.

How was it she had come to be here? Could it have been avoided if she had never agreed to go to the cake shop with Kahoko, if they hadn't stopped by the florists and run into Len and she hadn't seen him look at Kahoko like she were the only thing worth looking at and at the same time seen him, the beautiful, cold Len Tsukimori laugh in such a way that rendered her speechless and breathless and less many other things?

Kazuki, she thought, would still have the party. She still would have been invited. She still would have been paired with Len and she still would have those few hours of his time that she thought she might not trade for anything.

But maybe if she had continued keeping her distance, watching from afar, she wouldn't have said yes to the party. Wouldn't have followed him down the corridor to the music room.

Wouldn't be here, sitting on a bench in the rain, without shoes or a jacket or her purse or the cake she had gotten just for him, having _crawled out of a bathroom window _at a party without telling anyone where she was going.

_No, _she thought, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on top of them, biting her lip. _I still would have. I would not have been able to stop myself. I'm not an idiot. I know better. I have always known._

Knowing and reacting correctly, however, were two different things.

Perhaps if she hadn't been in the concours with him. Hadn't gotten to quietly watch him up close, hear him the night he played at the training camp with Kahoko, come to know his voice.

But that wasn't quite right, either. Long before the concours, she had -

"Fuyuumi-san."

Either she was going crazy, or Len was standing in front of her, holding her shoes and the bag with the cake and her purse.

Her legs straightened, feet coming to rest on the ground as she stared up at him in shock, the tears momentarily ceasing, though no doubt they were still visible on her face.

He hesitated.

"You forgot your things."

Even the embarrassment she knew was inevitable had not yet hit. She was still processing that Len seemed to have walked a very long way just to bring her the things she had forgotten. At best, someone like Kazuki would drop them off at her house later with a concerned message asking what happened.

But someone like Len?

_Kazuki must have sent him because he'd already danced with Kahoko._

Except again. Kazuki would have dropped her stuff off later. There was no reason for anyone to try and follow her when she could have gone anywhere, least of all Len, who, surely, would only do such a thing under serious threat of death.

And Shoko could not imagine any of the five other concours participants threatening Len with death for the sake of returning her things.

_Why? _She couldn't seem to voice the question out loud. _Why are you here?_

"Here." He set them next to her and stepped back. To anyone else, he might have seemed at ease, but she could tell he felt awkward. She did too.

The silence stretched.

"Hihara-senpai said you were feeling ill."

He did not point out that she had crawled out of a window, for which she might have been grateful if she weren't still hopelessly confused.

Her pulse, she noted, had sped up. At least that was still functioning.

"I . . . um, I . . . s-sorry to make you come a-all this way with my s-stuff, I . . . you r-really didn't have to, I just . . . I d-didn't want to b-bother anyone."

He paused.

"I see. You should come back with me or go home. If you aren't feeling well, you would be an idiot to sit in the rain."

She should be offended.

Instead, she thought she might melt, despite the chill and damp and everything.

_And the disease progresses._

"I-I'll just s-sit here for a while and then g-go home."

"I'll wait, then, and walk you."

"P-please don't."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I insist."

"N-no, I would r-rather you not." She couldn't handle that. She couldn't handle his . . . kindness? Whatever it was. She couldn't handle feeling as out of place and at odds with herself as she did now and being forced to walk next to him, asking herself repeatedly why he was doing this and unable to come up with an answer. She didn't get him. He shouldn't be here. He should be back at the party, looking dignified and elegant in some random corner while he secretly wished he were still dancing with Kahoko or wondering why _he _felt like his chest hurt when he saw her dancing with one of the other boys.

But he was not. He was here, refusing to let her walk home by herself, disinterested in why she had crawled out out of a window without informing anyone she was leaving, or why she had so obviously been crying, or why she didn't want him to walk her home. She had thought she'd known a little about Len Tsukimori. Enough to know that she should stay away. Enough to know that she wanted to know more.

But really, she knew nothing, because she could not fathom his reasons for being where he was, doing what he was.

She hated this.

"It's f-fine," she said again. "I-I can walk by m-myself."

He was quiet for a long time, before he nodded stiffly.

"I see. Goodbye, then. I'll let everyone know you went home."

He turned and began walking away.

The feelings twisted. She tried to shake them away, staring after him in confusion and perhaps a little regret. She wanted him to leave her alone, and yet she didn't.

He disappeared around the corner, and she wiped her eyes, which had begun to sting once more, before putting on her shoes.

She wasn't sure where to go now. She couldn't go home. It was still too early. Usaki would wonder why Shoko hadn't called. Takano would take one look at her, sit her down at the kitchen table, and give her some tea without saying anything - just looking at her sadly while Usaki would try and make her laugh.

She didn't have the energy to deal with the embarrassment at being caught in such a state, or the inevitable kindness the two would show. At this point, it would just make her feel worse. There would be no way to escape up to her bedroom, though, and she didn't want to. There, she would be alone with the silence. At least out here, she could hear the wind and the sound of passing cars.

She certainly couldn't go back to the party. She wasn't sure she even wanted to face any of them again. She had _crawled out of a window. _She didn't even want to think about explaining that.

So lost in her thoughts, she did not hear him approach. For the second time, he had to speak to get her attention.

"Fuyuumi-san."

She started.

"Ts-tsukimori-senpai?"

This did not add up. Nothing did.

He looked annoyed, and didn't say anything or explain his presence.

She couldn't bring herself to ask.

After a few long moments of tense silence, he sat down next to her.

The silence continued, and her brain was working again - or rather, not working again, as per usual - seeing as how she was growing more uncomfortable by the second, sitting next to him. Especially given his downright bizarre behavior.

"Ah, um, why a-aren't you at the party?"

He looked at her in irritation and didn't answer for a moment.

"I would be forced to play more stupid games if I stayed."

That almost sounded reasonable.

Almost.

Or maybe she was just imagining things. Of course charades and dancing and polite conversation would be a powerful form of torture for Len.

"O-oh."

"Why haven't you gone home?"

She winced.

"I-I was going t-to."

"I see."

And he obviously did see - that she was clearly not intending to go home.

She did not, however, expect him to call her on it.

"You aren't going home."

She swallowed.

"N-no . . . I d-don't . . . that is . . ." She didn't know what to say.

His long silences were going to be the death of her. Just when she'd begun to think she was getting a little more comfortable with this frightening, nerve wracking boy, he came along and defied explanation by doing things like leaving a party in order to come sit on a bench with her in the rain.

He stood, and she almost made a noise of protest.

_Don't leave. _She held onto the edge of the bench. Irrational. What was she thinking?

She waited.

He started walking, in the opposite direction of Kazuki's house.

Was he going home, then? What if she had offended him? Really, it was considerate - that is, if he didn't have some other reason, whatever that could be - of him to bring her her stuff, and then to come back to see if she'd gone home like she should have. But she hadn't explained herself, when he deserved an explanation. She really hadn't said anything. In fact, she had downright rudely told him she didn't want him walking her home.

But what could she say? _You make me feel so nervous I want to faint, and at the same time, a tiny thing makes me giddy, and then something that shouldn't mean anything makes me feel like someone has gone at my heart with a paring knife._

It didn't even make any sense to _her. _To anyone else - especially Len! - it would sound crazy.

Not to mention a little creepy.

"Are you coming or not?"

She stared. He was looking at her over his shoulder in irritated expectation.

"U-um, what?"

"Are you coming or not?" He repeated.

"I, um, I, okay." She must have missed something. Like the part where he told her what precisely was happening.

She felt completely at odds, but some part of her brain made her pick up her bag and stumble off the bench after him. She didn't even ask where they were going. She didn't think to call Kazuki's house and tell them where they were going. It didn't even cross her mind that they would wonder, or that she had essentially abandoned Kahoko to the blatant impropriety that was being at a party with four teenage boys who bore her more than friendly affection.

She really didn't think at all. Just hurried to catch up with Len, who had continued walking at a brisk pace.

And when her brain finally regained some functionality, all she could do was wonder if it would always be like that. If she'd just follow him, no questions asked, without even thinking to do otherwise.

_I knew he was bad news._


	8. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except Takano and Usaki, but you probably knew that.

A/N: Oi, almost three months. How did _that _happen? I am so, so, sorry. I don't even have an excuse this time, as exams ended mid-may, and I've had plenty of time to recover. But I plan on being more diligent in updating from here on out, and I hope this chapter fits seamlessly enough with the others and manages to be enjoyable.

And thank you so much for all the support! **ImEmoCuzMySisSaidSo,** the fate of the chocolate cake is now revealed. **Dream Cager**, I am, as always, grateful for your support and advice. I probably don't edit things as much as I should. I can't believe I forgot Tsuchiura -.- Though Shoko's addressing of Kazuki-kun was intentional, as I'd gathered from the manga they'd known each other for some time since he calls her familiarly at the training camp, but still, she would address him at the very least as Kazuki-senpai, so my mistake! I'll endeavor to remember next time.

Again, thanks to everyone else who reviewed - I'm glad to know you all are enjoying it, and hope you continue to do so.

* * *

"Sorry for the wait, I had to clean something up, here's y- Oh, hey! Welcome back," the waitress, who's name, Shoko noted, was Sachiko, broke into a grin when she looked up and saw them.

It faded into a perplexed line upon closer examination.

"You guys . . . were you out in the rain for a long time? Um . . . I can see if I can find some towels . . ." she offered, setting down their menus.

"No, thank you. It's fine." It was Len who spoke; Shoko still couldn't quite find her voice. Though, now that the waitress mentioned it, she probably looked like a drowned kitten.

_And so, _she thought glumly, _the day worsens._

"Alright, if you're sure. Well. Something to drink, then?"

Len gave her a brief, assessing glance, and ordered tea for the both of them.

Sachiko frowned, eyeing Shoko speculatively, but apparently decided it would be too bold to ask.

"I'll have that right out," she told them, and hurried off.

Shoko almost wanted to call her back. It somehow felt acceptable to say nothing as she trailed after Len in the rain, but once they were actually sitting down to dine, she felt obligated to break the silence. At the same time, she was even less sure what to say.

Len didn't pin her with any uncomfortable stares, though; he simply picked up the menu and scanned it, movements hinting at a hidden impatience.

How surreal everything felt, from the time she'd left Kazuki's to now, where she was for the second time this week sitting in this restaurant with Len, uncertain what to say. She herself felt a little strange, like she was and was not there. Partly living it, partly watching from a distance.

She sat, wondering if she should try and explain, not sure how to, twisting her hands together in her lap while she counted the breaks in the seam of her hem.

He was tapping his fingers on the table again. She wondered if he really didn't like sitting still, despite evidence to the contrary.

Or he couldn't wait to get rid of her and do something more entertaining, like going home and watching water boil.

_33, 34, 35 . . ._

The seconds seemed endless. Len, she reflected, was not the type to ask questions, even if he was certainly entitled to.

But maybe he wasn't even curious.

But surely, if he would go through all of this trouble, he'd at least ask something? Why she didn't tell anyone? Why she left her shoes? Did she really _crawl out the window?_

Her shoulders hunched slightly. She was beginning to have trouble coming to terms with that one.

_Plink._

"Here's your tea. Careful, it's hot . . . though, you're probably still cold from being out in the rain. Are you ready to order, or do you want a few minutes . . .?"

Len looked at her questioningly.

Her voice, it seemed, was still broken, because she continued to stare at her fidgeting hands.

Though she couldn't see it, she felt his gaze for a few moments longer before he finally looked back at the menu.

"Two bowls of miso soup, I suppose."

He and the waitress waited for her to object, if necessary.

She did not.

"Okay, two bowls of miso soup . . . um, is . . . is she . . . well, nevermind. I'll take that up, and it should be ready soon."

And once more, she was left alone with him and her thoughts.

Not only had he been made to bring her her stuff and then take her somewhere in order to get her out of the rain, he'd been forced to order for her.

_Any minute now, _she thought numbly. _Any minute, and it will all hit, and I'll be a flustered, blushing, stuttering mass of mortified jello._

The minutes ticked by, and she grew somewhat anxious. He wasn't saying anything. Just looking in the general direction of the wall with his trademark face - was it just her, or was his expressionlessness beginning to become an expression in and of itself? - and tapping his fingers on the scarred wooden tabletop.

She wasn't sure how long had passed before she finally broke the silence.

"I-I'm s-sorry."

The tapping stopped.

"It's fine."

"I s-suppose I should t-tell you what h-happened."

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Perhaps."

Did he want to know or not? She didn't think she'd ever met someone who _wouldn't _be fit to bursting with questions at this point. But Len, it seemed, was entirely disinterested in her and what she had to say.

And yet, here he was.

She wished he weren't so confusing.

" . . . Are you feeling better, then?"

She blinked, and looked up to find his gaze had moved from the wall to her. She resisted a shiver.

"I . . ." She had not expected that question. "Y-yes. I think." Maybe. Maybe she was feeling worse.

He nodded.

"You should drink your tea. You were in the cold for a long time."

He picked up his own without waiting for a reply, and took a sip.

Grateful for a chance to think a little more about what to say, she followed suit.

Conversation was considerably more stilted than it had been on Wednesday. Though she supposed it was to be expected. Neither of them were the type to handle circumstances such as these very well.

She cleared her throat, unsure. It didn't seem like he was expecting her to explain herself, and yet, she felt guilty, taking advantage of his time and consideration without even telling him why she had _crawled out of a window._

Yep, that was definitely eating at her. She could still feel the mud from the ground below the window sticking her stockings to the soles of her shoe.

"I . . ." She began. But she wasn't sure where to go from there.

He surprised her, though.

"It's not really any of my business. Hihara-senpai said you were ill, and you already said you didn't want to disturb anyone. Anything else is of no interest to me." He exhaled, resuming the tapping. "What I mean," it sounded like he might be gritting his teeth. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

She tried to remember having heard him talk at such length before, but she was having trouble.

She swallowed, and fought the impulse to cry. He was being so . . . so _kind. _For no apparent reason. She didn't understand. He didn't have anything to gain from it, and he didn't seem like the type to pity her.

But then, there were many things about him that she wouldn't be able to figure out even if she wanted to.

So she settled for saving those questions for another time when he wasn't sitting in front of her and she wasn't still faced with the dilemma of what to say next.

"Th-then . . . if I don't o-owe you an explan-nation, I, um, I do want t-to say thank you. I d-don't know why, b-but, that is, y-you . . . it wasn't n-necessary, yet you . . . um, s-so . . . I, just, I'm g-grateful."

Possibly the most clumsy, botched attempt at expressing gratitude ever, but she was fairly certain she'd hit the basics.

On the bright side - or not, depending on how you looked at it - the color was back in her cheeks.

Interestingly enough, she noted, it was in his, too.

"Think nothing of it." It sounded like he meant it, too. Apparently, Len was as reluctant as she was to offer any explanations for mysterious behavior.

"O-okay. Th-thank you," she said again, that persistent uncertainty halting her words. He simply nodded, and they descended into silence once again. Shoko, unsure what to do with her hands, reached for her tea and took a slow sip. So preoccupied with the astonishing turn of events, she had not realized how cold it was until now, and was grateful for Len's foresight in requesting tea.

She would have told him so, but knew she'd just make the situation even more awkward.

Instead, she let the discomfort in the silence shrink to a manageable amount, and quietly drank her tea as he did the same, peering over the rim every now and then and studying the graceful lines of his face.

She'd pay almost anything to know what was going on in his mind right now.

_Don't bother wondering, _she told herself. _Didn't he say to think nothing of it?_

"There you are, then. Two bowls of miso soup," Sachiko announced, carefully placing a steaming bowl in front of each of them. A rush of steam warmed her face, and despite polite, tentative consumption of party snacks, she felt hungry.

"Th-thank you."

"Certainly. Can I get you guys anything else?" she queried, and the pair shook their heads. "Great. Let me know if you change your mind," and with a warm smile, she had hurried off.

Which left Shoko to nervously brace herself for the inevitable ordeal that was eating her soup without making any horribly embarrassing slurping noises. Or somehow managing to send the heavy bowl flying across the table into his lap.

_If anyone could do it, it would be me, _she reflected glumly.

The soup, whether by the cook's skill or the emptiness of her stomach, was delicious, and exactly what she needed right now, despite a few near-misses with the spoon and the constant worry that she might be eating too fast or too slow or doing some other impolite thing that she would have to profusely apologize for by shooting herself in the foot, if she hadn't already stuck it in her mouth during said apology.

Len, that jerk, ate flawlessly.

_There is no justice._

They both quietly finished their meal, and sat in silence for a few minutes before the waitress skidded to a halt next to the table.

"Ah, that was quick. You guys didn't really talk much . . ." she coughed. "Ah, right, do you want anything else or should I grab the check for you?"

Len looked at her questioningly. She shook her head, heat rising in her face. And all he'd had to do was look at her. There really _was _no justice.

"The check, please," he requested, and the waitress smiled uncertainly and scurried off once more.

Shoko fiddled with her hands nervously.

_You musn't do that, dear, or you'll always looked worried. Even if you're alright with that, it makes other people feel ill at ease . . ._

Her hands stilled. It had been a while since her mother's gentle reprimands had flitted through her brain. Shoko had given up trying to remember and follow the endless bits of well-meaning criticism that seemed to constantly be falling all around her ears years ago, but they tended to break through when she felt especially stressed.

And what was more stressful than the walking fire hazard seated calmly across the table - but for those tapping fingers - seemingly unaware of his inexplicable behavior and overall effect on her ability to function? Fire hazard, because she had no doubt she'd spontaneously combust in his presence one day.

Regardless, her hands began to move again. _Nevermind that, _she thought, _I am not and never will be the automatic hostess that she is, and that's okay._

But sometimes, in situations like these, she wished she could assume a brilliant smile and draw even the reclusive Len Tsukimori into her dazzling web as she entertained him with scintillating conversation.

She laughed out loud.

The tapping stopped, and he was staring at her in that dreadful, unnerving, lovely way again.

Somehow, it made her laugh harder. Why not laugh? The sheer ridiculousness of the situation she had managed to get herself into after years of successfully avoiding anything like the outings she'd been on in the recent weeks, the string of today's events in particular, had rendered her numb to the usual awkwardness and embarrassment that normally would have killed her laughter the moment his expression changed. She buried her head in her arms as she giggled, somehow feeling refreshed and sick at the same time.

"Here's the check . . . ah, is she going to be alright?"

She was not numb, however, to outside interruption, and her laughter faded as her cheeks warmed. Somehow, it was one thing for Len to see her hysterical laughter, for it seemed to her he'd seen every unattractive side she had to offer, even those previously undiscovered, but different for this self-assured, at-ease stranger to note her undoubted craziness.

In fact, it almost seemed like Shoko had become sort of . . . _comfortable _with Len.

She stared wide-eyed at the table she couldn't really see, her arms blocking out the light.

_How strange, _she wondered. When had that happened? Certainly, he still could fluster her and reduce her to a stammering, senseless mess, but at the same time . . .

"I . . ." From the dark, she heard him falter, before resuming in the cool, even tones she was used to. "Yes, excuse me. Thank you."

She waited until the waitress hesitantly departed before slowly lifting her head.

"I . . . er, it was . . . I'm s-sorry, I just, and, p-please excuse me,"

"It's fine." She swallowed, nodded, and leaned back against her chair in relief. Len had taken it in stride, as he had with everything that had happened today.

Like the indisputable fact that she _crawled out the window._

Oh, how it still stung.

Her mental reenactment of the stunt could wait, however, as Len was taking out his wallet.

She quickly shook her head.

"N-no, that's okay, I'll take c-care of it," she protested. It was her fault that they had ended up here, and for his kindness, she at least owed him as much as a bowl of soup and some tea.

"It's fine," he said, but she scrambled to get out her purse anyways.

"R-really, I'd be unc-comfortable if you d-did, um, I was s-such trouble today, I, that is, it's the l-least I can do, so please . . ."

He hesitated for a long moment. Who knew he could be such a gentleman, even if he was brutally honest?

"Fine, then."

Relieved, she managed to count out the total and tip without dropping anything, and set it on the table. They both stood up, pushed their chairs in, and headed for the door, passing the waitress as they exited. She waved.

"Ah, thank you for coming, see you two later!"

Shoko nodded and smiled tentatively in return, despite thinking that the odds of her and Len ending up back here together a third time were extremely low, and moments later, they were standing outside in a burst of cold, damp air. It was still raining slightly, she noticed, and it was cold, especially for having a short sleeved blouse on.

_And now, _she realized, _it's time to go home._

She really didn't want to yet. Somehow, despite the long silences, her inevitable failures in acting like a normal human being, and Len's sometimes terrifying demeanor, she wanted to stay out. More specifically, she wanted to stay with him. Anywhere was fine. Just not home, and just not by herself.

She swallowed. Unfortunately, that was not an option. She'd already inconvenienced him plenty.

"Ah, then, th-thank you very much f-for . . . for everything. You probably h-have things to do . . . I'm so s-sorry for the trouble."

He studied her for a long moment.

"It's fine. I don't have anything else to do, and parties are tedious anyways."

She nearly started crying again. Why _was _he being so nice?

Or was it that he always had been, even if reluctantly so? And Shoko had avoided noticing that, because for Len Tsukimori, on top of everything else, to have such a winning trait as inherent if somewhat stilted kindness, was the last straw for her.

And suddenly he was talking again, instead of bidding her farewell and making his escape.

"Do you remember where the florist is?"

She blinked, momentarily forgetting her miserable contemplation of how the closer she got to him, the stronger the pull, him becoming less a curiosity and more someone she genuinely liked.

"The f-florist?"

He seemed to be silently warring with himself.

"Yes," he finally affirmed. "My . . . my mother is returning from overseas tomorrow. While we're here anyways, I might as well buy her flowers." He ground out the last sentence like it pained him, and Shoko tried to visualize Len making such a gesture as buying flowers for his mother.

It was impossible. It almost seemed like he sensed her reluctance to go home and was making an excuse so she wouldn't have to . . .

But that was ridiculous. Kind he may be, but that was not . . . and it couldn't be it. She didn't want that to be it.

Rather, she did, and because she did, she absolutely hoped it wasn't.

_He's going to make me crazy, _she thought dazedly. _No, he already has._

"I, um, yes, it's . . . ah, if w-we're here, then it's . . . d-down that street, an-

He nodded, and cut her off.

"You can just show me, then," and once again began walking without waiting for her to respond.

Once again, she followed.

* * *

"Hello, welcome," the clerk called, turning her head with a friendly smile before returning to the arrangement she was currently working on. "If you need any assistance, it'll just be a moment," she added.

"Th-thank you," Shoko returned, still shivering slightly from the cold walk, but feeling generally relieved that she didn't have to go home. At least, not yet. The most the florist's could possibly buy her was half an hour, and that was unlikely. She suspected Len's head would explode if he tried to spend thirty minutes examining flowers and contemplating the best combination to get for his mother.

"Ah, w-what kind were you thinking o-of getting?" she asked, before a long silence could ensue with them still standing in the doorway of the shop. He blinked, cleared his throat.

"I don't know yet."

"I s-see, then let's look a-around,"

"Fine," he agreed, and seemed to be waiting for her lead, as if he thought she would know her way around the florist's.

Although, she probably _could_ navigate it better than he could.

She blinked, and moved her feet towards one of the narrow aisles, lined with various groups of flowers, and spoke as she slowly perused them, one eye on the bright array of colors, the other on Len, to gauge his patience level.

"S-so, do you k-know what kind she usually l-likes?"

He stared at her.

"No," he said finally. _As if he needed to say it._

"O-oh, okay, th-then . . . um, were you th-thinking s-something simple, or c-complex?"

"I don't know."

"Th-then . . . ah," she scrambled to think of another question that he might, perhaps, have an inkling of an answer to.

She couldn't really come up with one, and was ready to thrust her head into one of the water-filled cylinders when he sighed.

"I'm open to suggestions. No doubt you're more competent at this sort of thing than I am."

She might have been flattered, but knew it had nothing to do with his perception of her.

Which left her to try and choose an appropriate bouquet for his _mother. _She thought she might throw up.

"I-I-I . . . that's . . . b-but," Oh, how to politely express that she would rather leap in front of an oncoming train than be responsible for such a task.

"Then what kind do you like?" he asked impatiently.

"W-what kind d-do I . . . w-what?"

"What kind do you like?" he repeated.

It was unexpected, which left her to try and find an answer. She'd never thought about it before. What kind of flowers _did _she like?

For that matter, she realized, halting, what kind of _anything _did she like?

It seemed as though no one had really ever asked her. After all, she was _Shoko. _She was so dull and difficult to talk to, why would it even occur to someone to ask?

_The world, _she marveled, _is becoming a very strange place. _But was it a good thing or a bad thing?

"I . . . the k-kind I like . . . um, that's . . . oh, I d-don't kn-" she thought about the cheerful, one thousand yen bouquet of daisies that she'd found charmingly simple, before they'd been crushed. "I like d-daisies."

He nodded.

"Then I'll get daisies."

She looked at him in horror. The thought of presenting a plain, simple bouquet of daisies to the elegant, beautiful Mrs. Tsukimori was nearly enough to send her running out the store and into the rain-slicked street.

"N-no, that's not s-suitable at all!"

He stared.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I-I, that is t-to say, they wouldn't match a-at all, your mother is s-so . . . and, it's . . . they j-just won't do," she stumbled all over the sentence, uncertain how to explain something that should be so obvious.

"I assure you, it doesn't matter."

"It d-does!"

"It doesn't. It's not like it's a permanent arrangement for the parlor or anything. It's a small gift for my mother," he explained irritatedly. "I could pick her dandelions and she'd still faint from the shock," he added, muttering. Shoko would have laughed had she not been preoccupied with trying to convince him that daisies were absolutely _not_ acceptable for Mrs. Tsukimori, who no doubt received far more elaborate bouquets on a regular basis from fans.

Len took in her panicked face with great annoyance.

"Fine. Choose something more suitable, then."

She flushed, realizing that not only was she turning the sweet gesture towards his mother (which he hadn't even wanted make) into a tiresome ordeal, she was arguing with and making things difficult for him when all day, he had been unfailingly considerate of her. He didn't want to be here; he'd made this excuse so she wouldn't have to face going home just yet.

"I'm s-sorry, I didn't m-mean to be s-so . . . I'm t-terrible, I just h-had been w-worried, and . . ." She was very much afraid she'd start crying. Evidently, Len was, too, for he suddenly looked at her with alarm, as though she'd turned into a ticking explosive. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently couldn't figure out what, which made her feel even worse, because of course Len Tsukimori would be at a loss in the face of tears, and she was the _worst _for putting him in such a situation!

"I'm sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai, t-today isn't a g-good day for me, I . . . um, h-how about we just p-put something else with the d-daisies?" Changing the subject seemed like a good idea, for the more she apologized and tried to explain, the worse she felt and the more uncomfortable and worried he looked.

He looked like he might say something, but instead pinned the wall with a fixed stare and nodded mutely.

Footsteps sounded behind them, and Shoko swiveled, relieved to have some kind of distraction.

"Sorry, I needed to finish an arrangement. May I help you with anything?" the woman queried.

Shoko was about to shake her head and politely say, "No, but thank you," when Len started talking.

"Yes, please. I . . . I would like a bouquet for my mother," he explained, as though the words were being dragged out of him like a fish from the water. "Do you know what would go well with daisies?"

She looked thoughtful.

"What colors does she like?"

He stared at her blankly. She got the message.

"Hm. Well, then. Daisies . . ." she continued to ponder this. "A spring-y bouquet fits that. Mothers usually like those. Here, she might like this one," the woman said, beckoning for them to follow her to the front desk. Once there, she flipped open a binder filled with laminated pages, and began looking.

"Aha. Here, what do you think?" she pointed to a picture of an arrangement, and Shoko identified white and yellow daisies, pink roses, and small lavender carnations sticking out of a cluster of fresh green sprigs of something she could not for the life of her name.

Len was looking at her expectantly. She blinked back at him questioningly, fighting the impulse to blush.

He tilted his head towards the picture.

"O-oh. Y-yes, I think s-so," she agreed, nodding rapidly. Still nowhere near as nice as some that Misa Hamai received, but Len was her son, not a fan, and this was not a special occasion.

Not to mention, as he had pointed out earlier, she'd be stunned that he'd randomly decided to get her anything, whether it was three dozen giant roses or a rumpled daffodil off the roadside.

"Can you do those now, or will I need to come back tomorrow?"

"I can do them now."

"Then those, please."

"Very well, it'll be ten or fifteen minutes. You can wait in here or there's a bench outside, if you don't mind the cold." She eyed the window. "Or the wet."

He looked at Shoko questioningly.

"U-um, either is a-all right." She thought she might end up feeling slightly closed in inside while she and Len stood in silence, with only the rustle of flowers disrupting the stillness, but on the other hand, she might feel equally suffocated sitting alone on a bench with him.

"Outside then, so we can sit. We'll come in if it's too cold."

She nodded, and followed him out the door into the cool air.

Fortunately, the bench was shielded from most of the rain by the awning on the window, and they were able to sit without soaking their clothes through.

The silence was punctuated only by the sound of passing cars as they rolled through the wet street.

"I h-hope she likes them," she said. He gave her an odd look, but nodded.

She clutched the edge of the bench, racking her brain for things to say, wondering how other people did it.

But then, she thought, those people still didn't have success with Len, either. Actually, they didn't even have success with _her._

_I don't need to say anything, _she realized. _I hate it when people try and get me to talk, even when I make it clear I can't possibly. Tsukimori-senpai is the same way. Why would I think I had to say something?_

Because she hoped if she talked, then he would. She wanted him to talk. She wanted to hear his voice, she wanted to catch a glimpse of what he was thinking. What was more, she wanted to force him to take note of her, and she hoped that somehow she could leave an impression. Any at all.

_If anything could do it, crawling out the window probably did, _she thought wryly.

She sat there, listening to him tap his fingers on the edge of the bench, slowly feeling more comfortable being there, and suddenly wished it wouldn't end. Len would probably go home and forget all about today, and Shoko knew with a certainty that she never would. And didn't want to, despite all the bad things that had happened. She wanted to remember the fact that for whatever reason, Len had willingly come after her, made sure she was okay, and given up so much of his time and energy just so she wouldn't have to go home.

_Remarkable, _she thought, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. And it wasn't just he who was behaving out of character. Shoko herself felt like an entirely different person. She was actually grateful for the company of someone else, actually wanted to make an effort to talk, actually forgetting her self-consciousness, actually wanted to make herself more interesting, to become someone he wouldn't write off. She wanted to do the opposite of fade for once, and she wanted to stay. Even when she was embarrassed or nervous or afraid she'd upset him, even after a series of events that should have had her shutting down in tears by now, she'd plowed through and wanted to stay with him longer. Him, of all people. He wasn't even someone who was sociable and easy to get along with. He was her worst nightmare, and she wanted to prolong it.

She'd _known _she should have stayed away, that this was a dangerous road to go down. Not only was she being upended, as she'd thought she'd be, she was unexpectedly starting to like it. He still made her feel crazy and nervous and inside out, but he was slowly dissolving the sense of danger and pulling her in. She was behaving recklessly, she was feeling contradictory, and she had a good idea what lay ahead and was running towards it anyway.

_This is bad, _she thought dazedly. _This is really bad. This is wonderful, and that's bad. I should not be here, should not want to be here, and I'd give anything to stay. There's something horribly, brilliantly wrong with me._

She wasn't making any sense, and it was far too late to talk herself out of it, whatever it was. So when Len tapped her on the shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts, she firmly brushed all of those contradictory, worrisome things aside and decided not to think about it at all.

A few minutes later, they were standing outside the shop once more, and Shoko was forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that it was time to go home.

"U-um, I sh-should probably h-head home now," she finally said, after they'd stood there for a minute shifting uncomfortably.

He scrutinized her, and she looked at the rain-darkened pavement underneath her.

"Are you sure?"

_No. _But she would not be so unkind as to take advantage of the offer he might feel obligated to make.

"Y-yes, I couldn't t-take up more of your t-time." She was slightly appalled at herself for having taken up as much of it as she had.

Not that he'd originally given her much choice, but still. Where was the girl who persisted in saying, "No thank you, I'll be fine," even when she was sure she'd break?

He continued examining her face, and she did her best to cover her reluctance to leave. She would have tried a carefree smile, but the thought of leaving him and going home to the quiet house made it impossible, so she settled for trying to look blank.

"All right, then," he finally said, and her stomach sank a little in disappointment. She would have berated herself for the unfair feeling, but didn't have the energy. "Would you like me to walk you there?"

"N-no thank you, it's s-still light out, I sh-should be fine." She had to force the words.

He hesitated for a second, and nodded, and she abruptly remembered the extra cake. She quickly set the bag down, leaned over, and pulled the cake out before turning back to him, trying to figure out what to say.

"Ah, um, th-this is f-for you, a-as a th-thank you for W-wednesday, um . . . I g-guess for t-today, too, now, so, ah, th-thank you, and p-please enjoy it," she stammered out, hoping he got the general message in spite of the unusually numerous starts and stops.

He stared at it, clearly not having expected it.

"I . . ." he blinked, and she congratulated herself on having put _him _at a loss for words for once. "Yes. Thank you, I will," he said after a few moments, and accepted it gingerly. She paused, unsure what to say. It would probably be best to leave now. The longer she stalled, the harder it would be to turn around and go home.

"O-okay then, I'll g-go now. Th-thanks again, Tsukimori-senpai. B-bye," she managed to get out, then swiftly turned around and tried to walk back down the street like a normal person.

She was several steps away when he called after her.

"Fuyuumi-san!" She halted, and thought her heart might have as well. She turned, and he moved rapidly to catch up with her.

He looked like he was arguing with himself for a few seconds before he let out a breath and spoke.

"I can't eat this by myself. Would you come back to my house with me and have some before you go home?"

She nearly fell over. It couldn't possibly be Len Tsukimori extending such an invitation. She'd thought he'd been out of character today, and this proved that he'd been possessed. There was no way . . . and she would die of nervousness within seconds of passing through the front door, so she should definitely not . . . even if declining an offer it had probably taken a lot for him to make would be horribly awkward, it was for the best.

"Y-yes, if that's o-okay!" someone, surely not Shoko's, earnest voice stuttered out in acceptance.

He nodded, that rare red having crept into his cheeks, and gestured for her to follow him, and she went, fighting to keep up with his brisk pace.

She hated chocolate cake, but right now, she could not care less.

The walk was chilly and quiet, but not uncomfortably so for either. She suspected they both felt too awkward and embarrassed to say anything, he because to extend such an invitation was _so _unlike him, and she because, well, it was _him_. Enough said.

Len's house, she noted with guilt, was quite a ways away in the opposite direction of the shopping center than hers and Kahoko's. If she'd known, she would have run as fast as she could without waiting before she let him walk her home on Wednesday. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Sociability did not equate gentlemanliness, nor the lack of it the lack of the other.

She studied the building as he opened the gate. It was far more understated than her own, but of comparable size and craftsmanship. It simply sought more to blend.

He frowned at the light streaming through the window as he unlocked the door.

"I don't think I left the light on . . ." he murmured to himself, opening it and walking in. Shoko followed, and almost plowed into his back as he stopped short.

"Ah, Len, you're home!" Misa Hamai's voice carried across the room, and Shoko almost dropped her bag from the shock. His parents weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow . . .

_Wait. Len's _parents. Horror filled her, and she almost turned and ran back down the drive. His parents. It was one thing to be here with Len - although now that she thought about it, she hadn't realized yet that she would have been completely alone with him in his house - but to be here with his parents eying her curiously and asking questions, as parents were wont to do, and oh no, she should probably move out from behind Len and greet them -

"Ah," she stepped forward before she lost her nerve.

"Oh? You have someone with you . . . Hello." And there it was. Misa eyed her curiously. She quickly bowed.

"S-sorry to i-intrude, um, h-he said his parents w-weren't home, so,"

Both parents raised their eyebrows, and they took note of the bag she'd set down. Dual frowns appeared, directed towards Len, who had set the flowers down and was rubbing his temples.

"Len," his mother said frostily. "Would you care to explain? I'd like to think I'm misunderstanding the situation, and hope you'd confirm that."

"What?" he said, looking baffled. Recognition dawned, and Shoko, who had no idea what was going on, watched in fascination as he turned a shade of red to rival her own. "No, of course not, don't be - I would _never_."

The two exchanged looks uncertainly.

_Oh, dear. _It looked like she was causing trouble, whatever was happening, after all. She knew she should have said no.

"I'm s-so sorry, I d-didn't know it w-would be a problem, I'll l-leave," she stuttered, reaching for her bag. She should get out of there as fast as possible.

He swiveled to face her, looking irritated.

"No, don't, they're just being . . . it's fine, you can stay," he ground out, traces of red still in his face. He turned back to his parents. "She's here to eat cake, not . . . she's here to eat cake," he finally reiterated, crossing his arms.

"It's o-okay, here, I'll j-just give that t-to you, and go, um," she quickly pulled the cake out and thrust it towards him, anxious to exit the strange atmosphere. "Th-thank you for t-today, I'll, um, I'll s-see you at s-scho-"

He quickly shut the door.

"It's fine. They just misunderstood. You can _stay._" Somehow, it sounded more like he was commanding her to. She nodded, too terrified to speak. This was too weird.

His mother cleared her throat, she looked over at his parents, who were looking slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Len. It just . . . you're right, you wouldn't use our being away as an excuse to bring a girl over, and I'm sorry, miss, if I embarrassed you. It simply came off as being . . ."

Shoko was not really paying attention. She was frozen in horror. They thought . . . Len's parents thought . . . thought Len had brought her here to . . . to . . . that they came here to . . .

_Oh God. Oh God, kill me. Please. Please, let me cease to exist, _she pleaded with whatever divine forces would listen. If she moved fast enough, she could probably open the door and make it out without him blocking her.

"Er. Well," Misa let out an embarrassed laugh. "Here, if you bring that into the kitchen, I'll cut it and you can have cake as planned. Again, I'm so sorry, that makes things awkward. Please, have a seat, . . ." she trailed off, looking at Shoko questioningly, as her husband headed into the kitchen, looking relieved to escape.

"Fuyuumi-san," Len supplied, bringing the cake over to his mother. "She participated in the concou- Fuyuumi-san, are you going to be all right?"

"I," she squeaked, still in shock. She tried to cough, but ended up wheezing, so she nodded instead of trying to speak. He looked briefly concerned, but turned to his mother and handed her the cake. She accepted it quickly.

"I'll take care of that then, so please have a seat with your friend," she told him, and hurried into the kitchen.

He glanced back to where she was still frozen in the doorway, and looked pained.

"I apologize. You no doubt wish you'd gone home."

She still couldn't talk

"Here, sit," he gestured towards a chair.

She could not move, either, as it happened. He waited a few moments before briskly walking over, taking her arm and pulling her to the chair with surprising gentleness.

She stumbled the first few steps, and sank into the chair, thinking it was odd she hadn't caught fire somehow, because if she was going to spontaneously combust, now would be a good time.

The clock on the mantle ticked, a painful reminder that she was still there, sitting in the Tsukimori's parlor, and that she had not managed to dissolve or wake up from what she prayed was just a really awful dream.

He didn't say anything, and she was glad, because she'd have no idea how to respond.

The kitchen door swung open, and his parents hesitantly came out, carrying two plates, which they set down on the coffee table.

"Ah, forgive us if we don't join you, but we should really unpack."

"It's fine," Len said quickly. His parents smiled weakly and quickly made themselves scarce.

As relieved as she was to see them gone, she really didn't want to be left alone in tense silence with Len, at a loss for what to say.

In the end, they both quickly ate their cake without saying anything at all. She was eager to get home so she could throw herself off the roof. Though, with the luck she seemed to be having, she'd probably live.

"Th-thank you for h-having me," she said, setting down the fork and standing up. "I sh-should head h-home now, or T-takano-san will be w-worried."

He hesitated.

"Thank you for the cake. I'll walk with you."

"N-no, that's not n-necessary," she shook her head in protest, and gestured to the window. "S-see? It's n-not quite d-dark yet."

"That doesn't matter. It will be soon, and it's a lot farther than from the shopping center. I'll walk you." He walked through the door, clearly not willing to argue with her. Even if right now, she wanted to be as far away as possible and slightly resented him ignoring her wishes, she liked that he would insist on seeing her home safely. It said a lot about him.

She'd followed him to the door and retrieved the bag, which was now empty except for her purse, when footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"Ah, sorry, I came down to get my purse. Are you going home, then?" Misa asked, the usual warm smile on her face in spite of the fact that she was still feeling embarrassed over her earlier mistake.

"Y-yes, th-thank you for letting me s-stay," she said, bowing. She wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Certainly, I'm sorry I made things uncomfortable for you. Ah, don't forget your flowers," she said, gesturing to the table, then looked amused. "How unusual of you to buy flowers, Len."

"We should go before it gets dark," he said, ignoring the comment. But Shoko had already started to reply.

"Th-they're not mine, he g-got them for y-you."

Len was definitely at the tree stage of irritation. She blinked. Could it be that he hadn't intended to really give them to her? Admittedly, it was hard to see him going through with it.

_Oh dear, _she thought miserably. She should have waited for him to handle it.

Misa looked at Len, openmouthed. He looked at the wall behind her.

"Len?"

"Yes," he ground out. "Now we need to go," he said, opening the door and seizing Shoko's arm.

"I . . . what? For me? I . . . oh, here, I'll drive you," she broke free of the shock as she saw him pulling Shoko out the door.

"No, we'll walk," he insisted, and shut the door with a little more force than necessary, dropping Shoko's arm and increasing the speed of his steps as he opened the gate and started down the sidewalk.

She half-ran to catch up, and they continued at the pace in silence for some time before he finally slowed, letting out a breath.

"I'm sorry. I should have let you decide whether you wanted to walk or not."

"N-no, no, that's all r-right, h-honestly it would have been a-a little awkward t-to h-have her d-drive me. I p-prefer to walk."

He nodded. "Still. I just was . . . unprepared for the situation."

Above them, the streetlamps flickered on in preparation for night, and she fiddled with her hands.

"I u-understand. I'm s-sorry, I shouldn't h-have said anything about the f-flowers."

"I didn't tell you not to, so it's fine."

_He says that a lot, _she thought, almost laughing at the realization. She wondered if he knew any other word to use, or if that was the only one that ever applied.

The walk ended up being roughly half an hour, and it was dark by the time they arrived at her house, having been quiet since the mutual apologies.

She bowed quickly.

"Th-thank you v-very much for t-today, I'm s-sorry for being so m-much trouble. I'm s-sure you wish y-you'd stayed at the p-party."

"It's fine," he said, and she hoped the dark concealed her smile.

"G-goodnight, then, Tsukimori-senpai," she said, and turned to go up the walk.

A few seconds passed before he spoke.

"No, I don't wish I'd stayed. Goodnight," and he turned and started towards home.

She stared after him a few seconds, stunned, and then quickly ran up the steps and into the house, thinking she shouldn't feel this light and happy, that tomorrow she'd wake up and the full reality of the day would sink in, and that honestly? Who cared.

* * *

_**(Please Note: Shoko's surprise at his 'gentlemanliness' was not intended to imply that boys should pay for dinner, as I don't think that, nor do I believe if they don't, they aren't gentlemen. Actually, I don't really think gentlemanliness is a quality exclusive to men, even. In any case, this is basically a disclaimer in case anyone was offended. That was certainly not the intention.)**_

* * *


	9. But what does it MEAN?

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except Takano and Usaki, but you probably knew that.

A/N: Well, this chapter is lengthy and heavy on Usaki-Takano-Shoko regrouping conversation. A lot of you may deem it unnecessary. It might very well have been unnecessary. But I would rather put Shoko's contemplation of things into a conversation than just have six pages of "Woe is me, he loves me, he loves me not, blahhh". So why don't I just do without either? Because Shoko obsesses. It's what she does. I guess I could just _say_ she obsessed about it for X number of days, but I think her budding friendship/dependence on Usaki and Takano is an important growth experience. So basically, sorry if it's hard to slog through, but please bear with it.

**KatarzynaAnica** - I would like to thank you very much. It was really nice of you to take the time to let me know specifically what you liked or disliked about this. Some of it, I slightly disagreed with (like Len being the perfect leading man. Coaxing plausible dialogue from him is like trying to get a cat into a bathtub) but for the most part you are spot on. Should you continue reading, I hope you will find some of your issues satisfactorily resolved. Shoko is definitely flawed right now, but her growth as a person is part of the story, so please be patient with her for now. As for the tempo of the story . . . writing it one chapter at a time and taking time between chapters makes it difficult for it to flow. I do the best I can with the time and energy I have. But thank you, I truly appreciate your detailed review and do take it as a compliment that you felt the story worth leaving it.

**Dream Cager** - Thank you for your continued support! I'm thrilled to know you enjoy it and that it has not yet majorly disappointed. I worry it'll suddenly take a turn for the awful, and it makes me dread finishing this. In any case, I'm glad to know you are able to visualize things well! I always wish I could see what other people think of when they read something.

Thanks so much to everyone else who reviewed, both to the new readers and those who have kindly offered their feedback over the last several chapters. I apologize for the lengthy note, and as always, please enjoy!

* * *

_**Sunday Morning**_

* * *

Shoko opened her eyes the next morning to find large, dark brown ones peering out at her above a sly grin.

She shrieked, scrambling away, and Usaki fell back, holding her ears.

"Owww," she whined, sitting up and looking at Shoko as if the startled girl were the one in the wrong. "God, but you have a pair of lungs on you."

"I-I, but, what are y-you _doing_? You t-terrified me!"

Usaki looked affronted.

"Well, what else would I be doing?"

From the doorway, Takano chuckled, glancing at Shoko apologetically.

"She's been waiting for you to wake up for an hour. You'd think she would have better things to do on a Sunday morning, but I couldn't really stop her." She paused. "And I admit, I'm curious, too."

Usaki nodded along like a bobblehead.

"See? So," she looked at Shoko, who had inched right up against the wall and was still waiting for her pulse to slow, expectantly. "Let's hear it."

"H-hear _what?_" What were they talking about? Why _was _Usaki here on a Sunday morning?

She rolled her eyes and went on patiently as if Shoko was an idiot, which, frankly, Shoko did not appreciate, as Usaki was the one who had surprised her first thing in the morning, expecting her to answer a question she didn't even know what was.

"I have it on good authority-" here, she tilted her head toward Takano cheerily, "That a certain blue-haired violinist escorted you home _after dark, _and someone also called this morning asking where you had gone off at the party yesterday, leaving several hours of your time yesterday quite unaccounted for," she finished, looking for all the world like she was about to devour a particularly delectable piece of cherry pie.

Shoko turned the same color as the filling in said pie.

"Th-that's, it's-" she stopped short. Someone had called?

And, as she'd known it would, the ugly reality of yesterday and it's impending consequences came flooding back into her mind.

She had _left. _Without warning anyone, not even her host. She'd _crawled out a window. _She'd abandoned Kahoko to the improper and possibly awkward situation of being the only girl in a house full of teenage boys who were all half or all the way in love with her. Not only that, but she'd caused yet another of the few guests to leave also, without explanation, and then monopolized the young man in question for the rest of the evening because of her own selfishness and desperation. And then his _parents _had completely misinterpreted her presence in his home - which she shouldn't even have been in in the first place, considering it was originally just the two of them, which was possibly even worse than Kahoko's situation, given that at least with her each boy would make certain none of the others misbehaved - and she had knowingly ignored everything wrong with her behavior in favor of reveling in the awkward bliss that was last evening.

And even now! She should be ashamed of herself, because even as she felt embarrassed and panicked and wanted to crawl into a hole and rot, the memory of the latter half of the day sent shoots of warmth blossoming through her. She was, in her opinion, nowhere near as repentant as she ought to be. She should already be halfway downstairs by now, on her way to the phone to call and profusely apologize to everyone in question, assuring them that no, she did not know what had come over her, and yes, she would go out onto the porch and commit ritualistic suicide within the hour.

But no. Instead, she was still sitting in bed, and while yes, a part of her was about to expire from horror at herself, the rest of her was contemplating lying back down, snuggling into her pillow, and dreaming some more.

"Well?!" Usaki was starting to get impatient. Shoko supposed she should give her credit for lasting this long, given whom it was.

"I-I . . . um, I w-wasn't feeling well, s-so I left e-early." Shoko knew they would not let her leave it at that, but she was feeling stubborn this morning, and if they wanted her to elaborate they'd at least have to work for it. And hopefully, if she was not immediately forthcoming, she wouldn't have to say too much. Because then they'd continue on with those dratted _knowing _looks, and she couldn't pretend any longer that she didn't have an inkling as to what all that was about.

The question was, were they right?

She swallowed, thinking of his cold, glittering eyes in the dark, and how they seemed to have softened slightly as he'd told her that he preferred to have spent the day with her than at the party, and how she'd ascended into lightheaded bliss immediately thereafter.

So perhaps the question was, _how _right were they?

_How much longer do I have to live, Doctor? _she thought, grimly amused.

"Uh-huh. Without telling anyone. And conveniently, about five or ten minutes later, Mr. Tsukimori happens to excuse himself without an explanation, and unless you mysteriously met up with him several hours later in time for him to walk you home, the two of you met up and played around town the rest of the day."

Well, when she put it like that, Shoko supposed it sounded rather suspicious.

"It r-really was j-just-"

"Not to mention," she continued, trying to look steely-eyed but favoring a sparkling, anticipatory look instead, "Takano-san informs me that you also spent Wednesday evening together. Which you neglected to tell me, if you'll recall. If you don't, it was when you were saying how you hadn't spent that much time together at all." Her gaze did turn rather pointed here.

Shoko shrank into the wall.

"W-well, I d-didn't really have a ch-choice, y-you . . . you can b-be . . ."

She frowned, and Takano stifled a laugh.

"What? I can be what?"

Takano walked forward as Shoko shifted uncomfortably, and laid a hand on Usaki's shoulder.

"You can be pushy. And you know Fuyuumi-san doesn't like to talk about things. You _are _browbeating her a little," she reprimanded gently.

"Oh. Sorry. I forget sometimes," she apologized, looking genuinely sorry as she scooted back a few inches, as though backing off physically would somehow help.

"It's o-okay. I know you m-mean well." She hesitated, and then smiled faintly, deciding to take her chances. "Y-you are a little n-nosy."

Usaki looked like she might protest, than glanced down sheepishly.

"Fine. But I am genuinely curious. Takano-san and I worry about you sometimes. What with your parents always traveling, I feel like I don't even have a job, you hardly ever leave the house."

Shoko reddened, examining the smooth white headboard.

And discovered that, while she'd like to keep the details to herself, she wanted to tell someone about yesterday. Namely, about Len's odd behavior and what it could possibly mean.

"I r-really did not f-feel well," she said, though there was no way she was telling them why. She wasn't exactly clear on that herself. And didn't really want to be. "So I-" she stopped. She didn't dare repeat her escape through the window, either. "I-I left. I d-didn't want to be a-a bother to anyone, s-so I walked a w-ways, and r-rested on a bench. But . . . um, I left m-my bag there," she did not mention her shoes, "And Ts-tsukimori-senpai . . . h-he followed with my s-stuff, and then . . ."

Usaki leaned forward. Shoko was not sure how to explain the stilted exchanges that led to them getting something to eat, visiting the florists, and eventually going to his house for cake.

"Did he . . . did he _kiss _you?" she prodded, looking at Shoko with wide, excited eyes. Even Takano seemed to be waiting anxiously for the answer, though she was very careful not to look at Shoko so as not to pressure her.

Shoko would have fallen over if she hadn't already been propped against the headboard.

"I-I - w-what d-do you - th-that's . . . o-of c-course he d-didn't . . . didn't _k-kiss _me! Wh-why would you th-think that?" she sputtered incredulously, telling herself the burn crawling up her neck and cheeks and on to her ears was from shock at such a ridiculous question.

"Well, you paused like he did something really astonishing. And usually something really juicy follows. I should have known, though," she reflected disappointedly. "If he'd kissed you, you'd probably be comatose right now."

Shoko felt too weak to be insulted. She was still reeling from the idea that he would . . . that he . . . especially after his parents had thought . . .

"No need to blush on my account," Usaki said, cocking a brow. "In any case, please, continue. 'And then' _what?"_

Relieved to think about something else, even if it was closely related, she thought back to the way he had, in his own way, gone to great lengths to accommodate her so she would not suffer alone in the rain.

She struggled to find words. It was so complicated, would be difficult to retell, and yet it was really very simple.

"A-and then he was j-just so . . . so k-kind to me," she said softly, gesturing helplessly. "I i-insisted he go a-away . . . um, I r-really didn't w-want to see a-anyone . . . and s-so he finally left, b-but . . . he came b-back, even though I w-was so rude. And s-since I wasn't r-ready to go home, to get me o-out of the rain, h-he took me to get s-something to eat."

Usaki looked immediately suspicious.

"You should be careful. It might _seem _like a boy is nice, but he could just be trying to charm his way into yo-"

Takano whacked her across the back of the head, the appalled expression rendering words unnecessary.

Shoko on the other hand, laughed out loud at the idea of Len as a skeezy womanizer.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized, rubbing her head mournfully and glaring at Shoko, mistaking her laughter for amusement at her injury. "You hit _so _hard, Miko-chan," she complained. Shoko wondered when they'd gotten to be such good friends, but she supposed when you were a driver with no one to drive around and a housekeeper keeping a house that was for the most part uninhabited, you had to occupy yourself somehow. Striking up unlikely friendships was as good a way as any. In any case, Takano was probably a good influence.

She looked at Usaki doubtfully. If anyone could influence her, that was.

"I a-assure you, he's n-not like that." If only he were. It would be so much easier to dismiss him.

At least, she hoped it would be. Surely she possessed some sense.

"If you say so. How did dinner go?"

She winced, thinking of her muteness and the strained silences.

"I-I wasn't a-at my best. B-but he said it w-was okay, th-that I didn't h-have to explain."

Usaki stared.

"How could he not ask?" she wondered, being someone who would not hesitate to bombard Shoko with questions whether she was feeling well or not. Behind her, Takano grinned and looked skyward.

"W-well . . . he s-said it wasn't a-any of his business, and th-then he just w-wanted to know if I was f-feeling better."

"What a guy," Usaki commented, amazed. "Are you sure he's not just afte-" she stopped, ducking as Takano swiped at her again.

If Shoko had not for herself witnessed it, she wouldn't for a moment believe Len had really acted that way, but for different reasons than Usaki.

She'd known he wasn't exactly cold - well, not like how people thought - but she hadn't known he was so . . . not warm, he was definitely not warm, but he _was _somehow -

Her head was starting to hurt.

"So what happened after that?"

Shoko relayed the tale of the flower shop, and, reluctantly, the encounter at Len's house. During the latter, she could barely tell it, she still felt so embarrassed.

Usaki, on the other hand, found it hilarious.

"Oh, p-poor you!" She sputtered, shaking with mirth. Unsurprisingly, she didn't sound that sympathetic at all. "A-actually, poor Mrs. Tsukimori! She must h-have been _so _embarrassed! Ohh, if only I h-had been there!"

Even Takano couldn't suppress her laughter. Shoko smiled grudgingly, though thinking of it still left her a little ill.

"N-no, you don't, i-it was s-so _awkward! _I was s-sure I would d-die!" she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands as she grinned.

_It's nice, _she marveled. _It's not so bad, laughing at yourself, if you have someone with you._

She couldn't remember ever having done it before. The stinging humiliation had never been followed by laughter, just a painful lesson learned and tucked away with all the others, impossible to forget.

"My, my, though," Usaki said, dabbing at her eyes. "You had quite the day, especially for you." She bounded over and slung an arm around Shoko, giving her a squeeze. "You're a regular adventuress!"

Shoko, feeling too pleased with the morning to shy away from the invasion of her personal space, shook her head. Usaki was more excited than Shoko was.

Shoko might have been that excited, but she had all the doubts and insecurities diminishing the thrill.

"I-I just don't u-understand what it m-means . . . m-maybe I'm being s-silly, and he was j-just doing what a-anyone else would . . . b-but, no one e-else _did, _s-so . . ." She gestured helplessly, and Usaki leaned back against the headboard thoughtfully.

"It sounds as though he likes you, but he doesn't even know it yet."

Shoko froze, going strangely cold and warm at the same time. She blinked, and broke out of it, shaking her head furiously.

"Th-that's not p-possible, h-he . . . h-he likes K-Kaho-chan," she countered hurriedly. Usaki didn't know the situation. That was the only reason she arrived at such a conclusion. There was no way that was it, and Shoko would do well to remember that.

"The redheaded girl? She does seem like a sweetheart . . . but Fuyuumi-san, if you don't think that's it, if you know he likes your other friend, why did you ask what it meant?"

"I . . . I meant o-other than that."

She stared.

"But you don't think it was just his sense of courtesy."

"W-well, it's u-unlike him to-"

"It sounds to me," Usaki interrupted, "Like you, also, think he likes you. That or you're not sure and even though you won't let yourself hope, you still want to hear someone else say it."

Shoko was speechless.

Was that really her goal?

Was she really capable of such unconscious manipulation?

"I-I . . . d-do I?"

"I don't know, do you?" Usaki looked genuinely curious.

She was stumped, and afraid to sort it out, suddenly feeling like she didn't know herself. What if she said something, still trying to get Usaki to tell her what she wanted to hear? Even if she didn't realize that was what she was doing? Or that that was what she wanted to hear? If it was, then surely when Usaki first suggested it, she wouldn't have been so surprised? Though now that she thought about it, _had _she been surprised? Maybe she was just thinking in terms of what she wanted to believe instead of how things _really _we-

Takano stepped in.

"I think that's enough for now. You maybe shouldn't say things like that, I can practically see Fuyuumi-san entering into a mind-game with herself. You know she's likely to fret about this sort of thing. Anyways, I think she's genuinely confused. Remember, this is probably her first time feeling like this."

Usaki looked unconvinced, but glanced at Shoko in apology. Shoko acknowledged it with the barest of nods, her brain still whirling, trying to sort out the truth of her own intentions.

"Sorry, Fuyuumi-san, I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just something people do." She looked at Takano pointedly. "Regardless of age or experience. It's instinctive."

Shoko was horrified. She didn't want to think herself capable of doing that on a regular basis. She'd always thought she'd known exactly what she was doing. In fact, she was usually painfully aware, to the point of obsessing.

Takano sighed.

"Nonetheless, Usa-chan, don't worry her. She's stressed enough as it is."

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "Though I do think he likes her. And deep down she knows it."

_He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't,_ Shoko assured herself, fighting the chills that seemed to dart out across her. _It's not like that._

She said nothing, unwilling to argue with someone so persistent as Usaki. Even without that factor, she'd never been good at arguing. Just listening silently, letting herself be talked over, too terrified to speak. It seemed like she was always too terrified to speak.

"In any case," Takano spoke, turning to the door. "You've interrogated the poor thing enough. I think it's only fair we feed her now," she said, grinning and disappearing through the door, her feet sounding on the stairs moments later.

"Ooh, let's go. I already ate, but I think I'm hungry again." She crawled across the bed and slipped off, all clumsy energy, like a kid. She held out a hand to Shoko, who took it and slid off the bed to her feet. "Sorry, Fuyuumi-san. I didn't mean to browbeat you. But I can't help it. I'm just curious. And you know, your violinist is rather handsome and mysterious."

Shoko reddened, but nodded.

"It's a-alright, I unders-stand. I know I c-can be s-sensitive."

Usaki shrugged.

"Yeah. But even if sometimes you go kind of overboard, it's really quite endearing."

Shoko wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not, but for once wasn't worried about it.

Then something occurred to her.

"W-what about you, Us-saki-san? D-do you have s-someone you . . . well, l-like?"

Usaki stilled, blinking at her, then looking away, silent for a few heartbeats. Shoko congratulated herself on causing her to be speechless for once.

"I . . . you know? I'm not sure."

Shoko tilted her head.

"H-how can you n-not be sure? You e-either do or you d-don't, right?"

She hesitated.

"It's not that simple." Then she frowned, narrowing her eyes and giving Shoko a dirty look. "As you just spent the last half hour proving. Hmph, hypocrite much?"

But she said it with a smile.

* * *

_**Monday Morning**_

* * *

"I-I'm so s-sorry, Kazuki-k-kun!" Shoko apologized earnestly, bowing deeply, hands clasped together.

"Eh?" Kazuki stared at her. "Oh, that's right," he said, recognition dawning.

Immediately upon arriving at school, Shoko had sought him out, determined to force out the apology and explanation she had spent the last day rehearsing over and over again. She'd found him staring dreamily into space, a huge grin on his face - which might have alarmed Shoko had she not been so preoccupied.

"I-I shouldn't h-have left like that, I-I just didn't w-want to disrupt the p-party, though I a-admit it was a l-little strange, and th-then I didn't even r-return your call, s-so I understand if y-you or anyone else w-was upset, and I'm r-really sorry," she finished, although she didn't flatter herself that most of them noticed she was missing. Kazuki shook his head, holding up a hand.

"No, no, don't worry about it, it was fine! I'm glad to see you're looking bette- wait. Call? I didn't call . . ." He winced. "I really should have, though, I'm sorry, I was just, um, distracted." The grin had drifted back onto his face.

"It's f-fine, really, but who d-did call?"

"That would be me," a voice said behind her, and she spun around.

"Y-yunoki-senpai!" She bowed quickly. "Th-thank you, then, f-for calling to a-ask after my h-health." She shifted backwards a few inches.

He gave her one of those dazzling smiles. It should have seemed warm, but instead gave her a growing sense of unease. She felt almost as if he had some kind of ulterior motive. He had certainly never paid her much note before, so it was unusual that he would be the one to call.

"Oh, it was nothing. I'm happy you seem to be doing well now."

"Y-yes, thank you," she said cautiously. Kazuki had gone back to staring into space.

"I trust Tsukimori-kun located you without too much trouble?"

And there it was. Surely that was an innocent enough question.

But then, she was nothing if not paranoid.

"Y-yes, he did, it w-was very nice of h-him to bring me m-my things." Even if she didn't understand why he did it. Or if she did, like Usaki thought, she didn't know she did.

"It was, wasn't it? I was surprised, myself." He smiled, looking at her curiously. "Was he all right when you saw him, by the way?"

"Ah, yes, h-he was, why d-do you ask?"

"Well, he seemed very worried about you in his own way. Actually, he was the first to notice you were missing." His smile stretched wider. "I must admit, it was amusing to see. He stood by himself and . . . to be honest, it looked like he was _arguing _with himself. And then he informed Kazuki-kun he was taking you your stuff, and nearly shot out the door after you."

Shoko's stomach flipped. He was worried? _He _had noticed her missing? She didn't want him to be worried, she told herself. She didn't want him to chase after her.

Oh, but she _did._

"It's true," Kazuki had started paying attention again when Azuma mentioned Len. "It was the weirdest thing. Well, maybe not normally, but for Len."

"Right," Azuma nodded. "I wouldn't have expected Len to do something so nice. After all, he's so cold."

"He's not," she said without thinking.

_Drat it all, I really need to stop doing that, _she cursed herself.

Azuma's eyes flickered with interest, Kazuki's with surprise.

"What makes you say that?" His voice was smooth, light, but Shoko was not deceived. Azuma might very well be a charming gentleman, but as someone who was awkward with people, she knew that in order to be so at ease with and good at managing people, you had to be able to read them. To see what was not said or easily picked out. She suspected he enjoyed games, too. She never had been good with games.

"W-well, if h-he were c-cold h-he wouldn't h-have brought m-me my s-stuff, is a-all," she said hurriedly, her stammer betraying her.

"Is that all? I thought maybe, having spent time alone with him to shop for Kahoko-chan, you might have discovered something more about him." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, Tsukimori-kun didn't come back to the party, did he?" He looked at Kazuki expectantly.

"Eh? You're right, he didn't." Kazuki was less likely to notice of course, given that he would be all too happy with Len gone.

"Do you know what happened to him, Fuyuumi-san?" The question was innocent, his tone betrayed no hidden motives or suspicion, but nonetheless, she felt like she was being cornered, about to meet her gruesome demise.

"I-I-"

The bell rang. She could not believe her luck. Being saved by the bell never happened to people like her. She wasn't sure that in reality, it happened to anyone. Even if it did, good things never happened when _she_ needed them to. Yet for once, something had.

With nary more than an incoherent murmur injected with feigned regret, Shoko made her escape.

* * *

_**Monday, Lunch**_

* * *

She had decided that, at lunch time, she would go and make amends with Kahoko. The rest of the concours participants probably deserved an apology, also, but again - she didn't think they'd really noticed her missing, and there was certainly no way she would put herself through the pained explanation again. And risk being interrogated about Len.

But then, Azuma was the only person sadis- er, curious enough to ask about that. Everyone else would wave away her apologies. Keichii would probably just fall asleep halfway through.

So, when the bell rang, she waited quietly for most of the students to filter out, and exited into the hallway, fully intending to cross over to the Gen Ed building, seek out Kahoko, whom she was pretty sure had lunch at the same time as she did, apologize, and come back here to eat a quick lunch if all went well.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, a flash of blue, and her feet couldn't help but tentatively follow, heart switching to a fast beat.

She wondered if it would always be like this. If every time she saw him, she'd react so strongly, be pulled towards him unwillingly.

Or maybe not unwillingly. Maybe it was more like what Usaki had said. Maybe she wanted to chase after him, fall into that head first no matter the consequences.

He was heading in the opposite direction than the rest of the students, she noticed, discreetly slipping after him.

But if that was how it was, she contemplated, returning to her thoughts, how was it she'd also fought to avoid him, fought not to feel that way, fought to talk herself out of it?

Could you want to want something and not want to want it at the same time?

He turned the corner, and shortly after, so did she.

As they went on, there were fewer students to conceal her presence, so she held back a little. She could always lie and say her locker was over here, if he caught her. Or she could hide behind the large rolling trashcan the janitor had temporarily left in the hallway. Behind it, or in it, like they did in cartoons. The thought caused her to smile briefly.

As they separately turned the next corner, she deduced his destination.

_The roof. But without his violin case . . . come to think of it, he isn't ever in the lunchroom. I'd thought he had a different lunch hour than me._

She smiled a little. She could see him hiding up on the roof top, breathing in the fresh air away from the overbearing crowds and noise. He did like his solitude.

Fairly certain now where he was going, she stopped to idle by the water fountain, debating whether or not to continue on and join him, or to turn around and go find Kahoko, like she should do.

A couple of minutes later, after an intense battle with herself, she went after him.

She half hoped she was wrong and he wouldn't be on the roof. She couldn't think what to say when she arrived there. _Hi, Tsukimori-senpai, I saw you heading up here and just couldn't stop myself from following after you like a creep, haha._

She decided to just pretend she was going up there for some peace and quiet in which to eat her lunch, and minutes later, she determinedly pushed the door open, and then opted for a casual air as she stepped out onto the roof.

But no one was there.

The breeze lifted her hair as she gave a searching glance across the roof. No one. Maybe he was on the other side . . . but it would be too odd to go looking. He'd know she'd followed him.

In any case, she didn't hear anything but for the slight wind, the rustle of the rooftop plants, and the door clicking shut behind her. And possibly a crow in the distance.

Disappointment filled her, and she mentally kicked herself. It had been a stupid plan, anyway. She knew she should have gone to find Kahoko, but she hadn't been able to help herself . . .

"Are you looking for someone?"

She must have jumped about a foot in the air.

"Ts-tsukim-mori-senpai!" she squeaked. He'd been seated on the other side of the door the entire time, out of sight until it closed. Completely silent. Watching her. _As she looked for him._

Shoko went crimson. So much for pretending she hadn't followed him up here.

"Fuyuumi-san," he nodded, his gaze revealing nothing.

She scrambled for an excuse, but found none.

"I j-just . . ." There was no way she could say it out loud, even if he already knew.

Strangely, he didn't give any indication he thought so.

"Sit, if you would like." He resumed eating, and her heart thumped wildly as she tried to decipher what that meant.

_Where? _She wanted to scream. _Next to you? Across from you? On the other side of the rooftop? Or do you not even want me to be here? Are you just being polite?_

But would he have said anything at all if he took exception to her presence there?

So she went and sat next to him, but about two feet away for good measure, and got out her own lunch.

"D-do you always eat up h-here?" she asked, originally hoping to make the situation less awkward, but finding that she really did want to know.

"Yes." He briefly went back to eating his lunch. She did not think he was going to say anymore, but he continued. "The cafeteria is irritating. The noise and crowds, I suppose."

Shoko had guessed as much, but as she thought about it, she wished it had occurred to her to simply eat elsewhere. She, too, hated the lunchroom for those reasons, out of discomfort rather than annoyance.

"I-I don't like it e-either. B-because it's s-scary, though," she found herself telling him, pulling out her chopsticks and deciding she would try for once to just eat and not think about the myriad of embarrassing mishaps that could possibly occur.

He looked sideways at her.

"Scary?" He seemed to be trying to process that.

She thought for a minute how to explain.

"I'm a-always afraid I'll c-crash into someone, or d-do something clumsy. I-I know it's s-silly, but I'm not v-very good with things like th-that. Just t-too many p-people . . ." She halted, then continued. "I-it makes my h-head spin. And a-all the noise, it f-feels like my m-mind is t-trying to catch all of it, but of c-course it can't, so I-I just . . . feel s-so overwhelmed." It sounded reasonable to her ears, but she doubted Len had ever felt like that - he seemed to take everything in stride - so perhaps to him it was nonsense.

It occurred to her she had not ever told anyone that. It had always been just another one of those stupid things she inexplicably had problems with, and she didn't think most people would get it. Most people didn't come close to breaking down just by walking into a crowd. If anything, they'd tell her she was just being shy and if she tried, she'd stop feeling that way.

God knew she'd tried, but most of the time, her efforts were not rewarded. At some point, it stopped being worth it, she stopped trying, and so she faded.

He seemed to be thinking over her words.

"That must be hard. I can't imagine it."

She'd figured, but she didn't mind. She wondered why. Why she'd told him, why it didn't matter if he understood or not.

She supposed on some level, with Len, she felt like she had nothing to lose. Oh, certainly, he could devastate her if he wanted to, but when it came to things like this, while he didn't pull punches, he wasn't cruel or vicious either. With Len, it would always be a clean cut.

"Th-there are worse things," she said, staring at the ground next to her leg. "After all, e-everyone has a h-hell." She wondered what his was.

He looked at her, head tilted, and studied her for a moment before turning back to his lunch without voicing his conclusion.

She appreciated that he didn't ask what brought her up here. She was pretty sure he knew, and it was nice of him not to make her squirm.

"O-oh," she said, recalling the tail end of Saturday. "D-did things with your m-mother w-work out alright? I'm s-sorry about th-that . . . w-well, also for the m-misunderstanding. I d-didn't put that w-well, did I?" she remarked, cheeks warming at the awful memory. Although, as Usaki had pointed out, it made for a funny story.

She thought a brief smile might have flickered across his face, but she couldn't be sure.

"It was fine. Well, it was . . . uncomfortable," he allowed. "But it wasn't anything serious."

She wondered how he explained the flowers to his mother, or if he let himself be cornered into saying anything at all. She almost grinned. She'd have liked to see that.

"I'm g-glad. At the t-time, I was s-sure I'd faint f-from embarrassment," she confessed with a pained smile. _This is nice, _she thought. _Pleasant. Unexpectedly so._

He grimaced, clearly remembering as well.

"If you had, we might have escaped sooner."

There was no humorous inflection or sarcastic undertone and it was not accompanied by a smile or any change in expression. In fact, it took her a moment to process it, but she thought . . . she thought he might have just made a joke. And whether he had or not, she'd already started laughing.

"H-how so?" she asked, watching him watch her with that indefinable look that tended to stir the butterflies ever-sleeping in her stomach. She brushed off the discomfort and decided she didn't mind it. It confused her, but the day suddenly seemed to be going blessedly well, and she thought maybe it was because she seemed to be thinking less than usual. Rather, she was not overthinking, and it was nice. She could and probably would overthink later.

He turned back to his lunch, but did not move to eat any of it.

"My mother couldn't exactly make accusations if you were unconscious. And I, of course, would be obligated to move you to somewhere more comfortable - conveniently anywhere but there," he elaborated, his smooth, quiet voice laced with irony - not soft, but softer than usual.

She continued laughing, the scene dramatized in her head, complete with an exaggerated swoon on her part and Len valiantly whisking her to the chaise in the study or wherever he might have taken her had that happened.

"I-it's just as well," she said once she finished. "My housekeeper and d-driver were greatly am-mused, and I w-wouldn't want to deprive them."

He gave a faint smile, and shook his head.

"No, I suppose not," he agreed. She returned the smile, and was a little regretful when they descended into an easy silence. On the other hand, she had just gotten more out of the encounter than she had any right to expect. It should have been a disaster from the moment she burst through the door and started looking around like an idiot, only to turn around and realize he'd been watching the whole time, but instead, it had gone brilliantly. At least, by her standards, she reflected. For anyone else, that would just be a conversation like any other.

She, on the other hand, had actual conversations so rarely, that this one was noteworthy.

Shoko was disappointed when the bell rang, and she packed up her lunch, trying not to feel morose, as Len did the same.

They left the rooftop, walking in silence until their paths separated, at which point she suddenly felt awkward, like she should say something.

"Th-thank you for l-letting me eat with you," was what she decided on. He acknowledged her gratitude with a nod and a murmured, suitably polite response. And then, as it looked like it was time to turn around and go back to class, she knew what she wanted to say.

"Ah, um, Tsukimori-s-senpai, if it's a-alright, c-could I eat l-lunch up there again t-tomorrow? I-I'll try not t-to be a bother," she assured him, trying not to look too hopeful, trying not to be intrusive. He blinked, then inclined his head in assent.

"Of course, if you'd like to," he agreed, and bid her farewell.

It took all her willpower not to skip back to the classroom like a crazy person.

* * *

And so she did eat lunch there with him not only the next day, but every day that week and the next. Somehow in only a few days time, she started anticipating lunchtime with nervous excitement, checking the clock repeatedly even though the bell would let her know. She stopped waiting for the crowd of students to thin out, choosing to brave them immediately instead. She liked to get there before him, liked the feeling of waiting for someone, liked the sharp lift in her spirits as soon as he stepped through the door. Liked knowing he'd be there, without fail.

Sometimes they stayed quiet, just absorbing the day. She was beginning to like those comfortable silences almost as well as she liked their conversation, now that it had become a regular occurrence. She didn't have to worry when the lunch hour ended, because tomorrow promised another one.

And sometimes they talked. About school, about their parents, about their music, about the flowers on the potted plants next to the benches. They flitted from one topic to another, sometimes serious, sometimes light. She found herself being honest, found the comfort in having someone listen to her. Surprisingly - or maybe not, given that it was him - she tended to carry the conversations. He didn't say much at all, but even though she spoke more, she still didn't talk that much either. She liked that she could talk when she had something to say, but beyond that, he didn't expect her to entertain him.

Really, Shoko liked everything about these encounters. She liked the fresh air and the atmosphere, she liked thinking about things she'd never thought about, she liked being comfortable with someone else and at the same time, being comfortable with herself. She thought she might even _love _that. She was too busy watching him, listening to him, feeling his presence, to look in at herself. Too focused on him, nearly enthralled, that she didn't have the extra space in her mind to worry about herself, what _she _said, what _she _did. It felt like walking outside and seeing something separate from the same old dusty interior she was usually trapped in. She liked the person she was when she was with him. Someone a little less shy, a little more carefree, a little more interesting. Someone he thought worth talking to, worth hearing.

Best of all, though, she liked him. It frightened her how much. How much she treasured that half hour every day above any other. She would never have thought that of all the people she'd met that year, Len would be the one she'd feel so much herself with, the one she felt as though she'd really become _friends _with.

It was so unlikely, so extraordinary, she still marveled that it had happened at all. What were the odds that things had happened as they were? That through the concours, he'd gone from being a secret fixation to a terrifying acquaintance, and then in recent weeks, a slightly less terrifying acquaintance to a puzzling attachment, and now to friend.

She supposed it was a waste of time considering it. She should just be grateful that she had this now. Really, she shouldn't be considering any of it. March was drawing to a close, and the school year would end soon. Exams were coming up, and she didn't need to be hopelessly distracted by this when she needed to be studying.

"A-are you ready for exams?" It was the Friday of the second week she'd been eating up here, and the subject had come up while they were discussing the focus of the classes that week on reviews.

She suspected the question was pointless as soon as she said it. Of course he would be ready for exams. Len would no doubt pass with flying colors, as he did with everything.

"Yes, I believe so," he replied, his words without conceit. She nodded.

"You'll p-probably get perfect marks," she agreed glumly, pushing a piece of lettuce around in the lacquered wood box Takano had prepared for her. She herself was not an idiot, and she did study, but she always had pre-exam nerves. Especially since she would be tested on her actual playing, as well, forced to stand up in front of the examiner's and perform. Though that wouldn't be nearly as bad as the concours had been.

He tilted his head, a faint arch to his brow.

"Should I take that as a compliment? I'm not certain what to make of that."

She shook her head with a wry smile.

"N-no, if I were going to c-compliment you, it would definitely be on s-something else," she told him truthfully, not thinking much about the statement.

He started, an ever-so-slight, halting movement that she almost missed. She wished she had, because now she realized her statement had been somewhat ambiguous, and she felt a little embarrassed. Luckily, she knew better than to try and backtrack and fix it. She did not do backtracking well. It usually ended in disaster.

Shoko was half afraid he was going to ask her what it was she'd compliment him on, but instead he opted to turn his head away from her in order to examine a square of concrete on his right while he took a sip of tea.

After he was done, he turned back to her.

"And are you ready for exams?"

She hesitated.

"M-mostly. I think I'll b-be okay on the written ones, b-but I'm a little anxious about th-the instrumental prof-ficiency portion. Th-that one is kind of hard to p-practice, because the problem is n-nervousness," she confided with a sigh. She wished she could go anywhere and do anything without a thought to the people surrounding, like he could.

He mulled over this for a few moments as he chewed a bite of rice and swallowed.

"If you want to play something now, as practice, I'll act as audience. You can't expect to get very far if you're still crippled by performance anxiety."

She winced. She knew that, of course, and in all fairness, she _was _getting better. But he was right. She did have a tendency to shy away even when the opportunity arose for her to get some practice in that department.

In fact, she wanted to shy away now at the suggestion. To play with Len as an audience of one seemed somehow so . . . _intimate. _She knew he was offering as one musician to another, but still, her heart was assuming an odd rhythm. And even without that, for Shoko to play for someone who always performed flawlessly, never allowing any emotions, if he had them, to interfere, was very frightening. She didn't think she could ever hope to achieve that, and she was sure he'd be able to tell.

She'd come to learn he was strangely accepting of most things, but when it came to music, he was a harsh critic. She wasn't sure she'd be able to withstand his calculating gaze on her for the duration of a song.

But if she declined, she realized, she would only prove his point, that she would never get anywhere because she couldn't overcome her shyness.

With anyone else, at any other time, she would probably bitterly admit to herself that no, she never would overcome her shyness, and that she was fine with that.

But his expectant gaze on her left her wanting to prove herself to him, to be somehow a little better, a little stronger, a little braver. Even if she wasn't any of those things, she didn't want him to see the weak coward she'd always known herself to be.

Fingers trembling, she gingerly opened her clarinet case and removed it from the velvet lining.

She inhaled, trying not to shake. Her heart pounded and white spots covered her vision, but she arranged it against her lips and willed herself to play. _Show him, _she thought to herself, praying for courage. She could feel his eyes on her, those unreadable, unwavering eyes. Somehow, nervous as she was, she felt almost triumphant to have him focused entirely on her. Somehow, even as it actually contributed to her nervousness, it also made her feel so much less small and insignificant. _Show him someone worthwhile. Don't let him see what you are, _she begged of herself. _Let him see what maybe, just maybe, you could be, if you had a strong enough reason to._

She relaxed her shoulders, breathing in deeply, and played.

She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to look back at him, trying not to obsess over whether her fingers and lungs worked at the right pace, in the right motions. She tried to give him a song that was not clouded by hesitation and the accursed shyness that slowed the notes. She tried for something stronger, willed him to hear her as something more. More than she was, more than she suspected she would be.

And then it was done with and her hands fell to her sides, one clutching her instrument as she squared her shoulders and waited for his criticism, knowing it was hopeless, knowing all he'd probably heard was a meaningless, well-played song that could have been great if only the person playing it were not so lacking.

She opened her eyes and he was standing, still looking at her with unfathomable eyes. The noises of the day went on around them as she waited, confused, as he slowly walked toward her, as if he moved unconsciously. A cloud drifted over the sun, casting a shade followed by light and then shade again.

_What is he doing?_ she wondered frantically, trying to decipher the strange behavior. He stopped just in front of her, looking at her. She looked back at him, suddenly unable to think as he leaned closer, her feet frozen into place.

And all of the sudden, his fingers came to rest beneath her chin, tiling it up as his head came toward hers, and the situation crashed down on her, kick-starting her pulse into madness.

_He's going to kiss me, _she realized numbly. _He's so close. Too close, too close, too close, _she thought, wide eyes taking in his beautiful face as it drifted into unbearably close proximity to her own. Her gaze fell to his ever-so-slightly parted lips. Which were just about to cover her own.

Without thinking, she shoved him away.

Horrified, she watched him stumble back, uncertain why she'd pushed him away, knowing only that all of the sudden she thought she felt light-headed and unaccountably afraid.

"I-I," she started, her mouth dry as he managed to regain his balance, blinking as if he'd been shaken from a trance.

What had she done? More importantly, what had _he _done? Why would he . . . why . . .

She didn't understand, couldn't think, didn't want to think. She spun around, yanked open the door, and ran, leaving the empty clarinet case, the remnants of her lunch, and a very baffled Len behind.

* * *

"Hey, Fuyu-" Usaki began to greet her cheerily, then stopped as she got a good look at Shoko.

Shoko's hand went nervously to her face as she half-heartedly wondered what was wrong.

"Oh dear," Usaki said on a sigh. "Well, get in. You're in luck, because Takano was baking something when I left and you sure look like you could use some sugar."

Shoko nodded, feeling somewhat dead inside, and climbed in.

After the incident on the roof and her rapid flight back to the classroom, she'd spent the next two periods drowning in her shock and humiliation, not hearing a word of what was being said in the class. Questions swam through her muddled brain at the same time she replayed the scene, fighting to keep her lunch down as she thought of how close he'd been. He had _touched _her, for heaven's sake. Her chin seemed to burn at the memory.

And then she would recall the way she'd brought her hands up and slammed them against his chest, pushing him away. She felt sick and ashamed and also what she thought might be _regret_, which of course led to confusion.

Had she wanted him to kiss her or not? She'd shoved him away, quite brutally, which meant she definitely didn't want him to. And yet she found herself restlessly wondering if only she'd stayed still and let him . . .

But then she would shake off that dangerous thought and focus on the fact that for someone like _Len_ to kiss someone like _her _and be rebuked must have offended him horribly. Why oh why, if she didn't want it to happen, could she not simply have backed up or turned her head or told him to stop before he'd even gotten that close instead of resorting to that violent shove?

Because she wasn't thinking, and instead she'd panicked.

Oh, how she hated herself.

"Shoko?"

Her head snapped up, and Usaki was looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"W-what?"

"You were looking very fierce all of the sudden."

"S-sorry . . . I just . . . um . . . today w-was not . . ." she trailed off as Usaki shook her head.

"It's alright, we'll talk when we get home and have gotten you settled in with some tea and a pastry."

Her stomach, which Shoko thought would never be the same again, was oddly comforted by the suggestion. She nodded, turning her gaze to the window, and Usaki silently continued driving.

Five minutes later, they pulled into the drive, and Usaki killed the engine before letting Shoko out.

"Well, then, let's find you something sweet and then you can talk about whatever it is that managed to kill the perpetual high you've been on for the last two weeks," she told her, and set off towards the door.

Shoko looked up at her in surprise, but followed.

"W-what do you m-mean?"

Usaki rolled her eyes.

"You've been acting like a monkey who just discovered a self-replenishing horde of bananas."

"W-what?" Shoko repeated. Had she really been acting like that? She hadn't noticed . . . but it was true, she'd felt very light and carefree the last couple of weeks.

And now it was over, and she had an awful weight bearing down on her once more.

Usaki sighed.

"And now you look like someone put your kitten down the garbage disposal." She unlocked the door, nudging Shoko inside, and called out to Takano.

"Miko-chan, are you done baking yet? Fuyuumi-san's had a rough day and needs a pick-me-up."

A muffled response, and then Takano appeared in the doorway leading from the Kitchen to the living area, oven mitts on both hands.

"What's this about a rough day?"

"I don't know, I figured she'd want to settle in with some comfort food before she talked," Usaki explained, gently guiding Shoko to a chair as if she thought Shoko might have trouble walking.

Shoko looked at her with half-hearted exasperation.

"I can w-walk, Usaki-san. I'm sad, not i-infirm."

Usaki tossed her a cheeky smile, but looked mildly surprised.

"Good to know your spirit's still intact. If anything, I'd say you're still doing better now than you were a month ago."

"W-what are you t-talking about?" Shoko asked curiously.

"Nothing, nothing. Ah, thank you Miko-chan!" She said, turning her attention to the steaming cups of tea Takano had set on the table.

"You're welcome. Let me get you a scone, Fuyuumi-san, and then you can tell us all about it." She returned to the kitchen, and Shoko scooted forward in her chair and picked up her tea, letting the hot liquid sting it's way down her throat.

"Ow," she said, but kept drinking it.

Takano returned with scones, and joined them at the table. She and Usaki leaned forward idly in expectant silence, waiting for her to speak.

Shoko nibbled at the scone for a moment, and then leaned back, wondering what to say.

She was unaccustomed to sharing her worries. She'd stopped trying to confide in her mother long ago, for despite her good intentions, she just didn't understand. When Shoko did manage to get her alone and confess her troubles, her mother would listen for a bit and then break in with some non-specific advice, such as "I'm sorry, dear . . . just try your best next time!" or "You shouldn't think so hard about things. Just let it go and enjoy yourself."

Which sounded good in theory, but was much harder in practice. And Shoko wondered if that was even what she wanted. Of course, she'd like to overcome her debilitating shyness, but she'd also seen the other end of the spectrum in her parents. She loved them and even admired them, and was happy they were happy, but she didn't think their lifestyle would ever suit her. Surely there was a happy medium somewhere?

But she'd never found it, and after so many years of keeping quiet and wallowing in her isolation, here she was, ready to confide in these people a second time. But the first time had been a more lighthearted debate over the first excitement Shoko'd had in a long time.

This time, it was over an experience that was so alien to her she felt shaken and defeated.

She looked up at them, and they looked back at her, waiting, Usaki with a little impatience, and Takano with endless stores of compassion.

She suddenly wanted to cry. Her parents could not have left her in better hands, she thought. She felt almost as though they were her friends.

"Well?" Usaki prodded gently. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"I . . ." What had happened? Shoko was still trying to figure that out herself. "I d-don't really know. I mean, I do, b-but I'm so c-confused."

"Oh," Usaki said, leaning back as comprehension dawned. "This is about your violinist, isn't it? I thought it might be."

"He's n-not _my _violinist," she said defensively, but it sounded weak even to Shoko.

"Alright then, _the _violinist. What'd he do? Should I go fight him or something?"

"N-no! He d-didn't do anyth- w-well, he did, b-but it wasn't . . ."

Usaki blinked at her.

"H-he tried to kiss me," she blurted out, and immediately slumped in her chair, her cheeks burning. There it was. Len Tsukimori had tried to kiss her.

And she'd pushed him away.

And now she couldn't decide how she felt about that.

Usaki's eyes widened, and even Takano had trouble disguising her surprise.

"Wait," Usaki said suddenly, straightening. "What do you mean he _tried _to kiss you? Did he miss?"

"N-no . . ." she swallowed. "I p-pushed him away."

"You what?" Usaki blinked at her like she were some kind of alien. "I thought you liked this guy?"

Shoko stared helplessly at the table, frustration thickening her throat with tears.

"I don't kn-know if I do," she said, then thought about it. Thought about the way she anticipated the sight of him like a starving man might anticipate food, the way she listened so carefully whenever he spoke, savoring the sound, the way he just made her want to smile. The way for some reason, he made her so dissatisfied with the way she was she actually tried to change it, when she'd given up so long ago. The way in some ways, she had actually succeeded.

"No," she said, retracting her statement of uncertainty. "I do. I-I like him." She bit her lip. "I like him a-a lot, but I d-don't know what t-to do about it."

Usaki gazed back at her, looking frankly baffled.

"You could always, you know, let him kiss you."

"B-but I was so _surprised! _No one's ever . . . no one's ever w-wanted to kiss me, let alone t-tried it, and then he, of all p-people . . . I-I never even thought _he _might . . . and _why _did he d-do it? He c-couldn't possibly like me . . . I'm not . . . I'm not . . ." _I'm not Kahoko. _The thought rose unexpectedly, and she suddenly felt cold.

_Kahoko, _she thought, horrified. Here she'd been on cloud nine, skipping up to the rooftop everyday to meet him for lunch, and she hadn't even once considered Kahoko. Kahoko, who obviously liked him. _Of course. Just because I didn't want to think about it doesn't mean it isn't true. She likes him. _How could she not have remembered? She hadn't spared it a single thought, just chased after the half hour of bliss that was his company, and completely disregarded Kahoko's feelings. Certainly, she'd never considered herself competition. Len would never be interested in someone like Shoko, and Shoko hadn't yet identified the complicated feelings she had. Hadn't wanted to.

But it was different now, and she felt like the worst friend ever. How _could _she?

" . . . you think he doesn't like you, of course he does! Usually if a boy tries something with you, it means he likes you. Which isn't to say he's in love with you or anything, but at the very least he's attracted to you," Usaki was saying, and Shoko dazedly returned to the conversation, guilt weighing on her.

"It d-doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head determinedly. "I w-was right to push him away," she said, ignoring the remaining doubt her words brought on.

"What makes you say that?" Usaki was looking at her like she was crazy. "You _like _him."

She straightened, trying not to think about that, or the fact that this meant giving up the precious time they'd spent at lunch. Besides, after today, there was little hope of salvaging the friendship.

The thought sent a stab of pain through her. More than kisses or romance, the idea of giving up one of the precious few friends she had devastated her.

_But that's life, _she told herself.

"B-because Kaho-chan likes him," she explained simply.

"Oh," they both said.

"Well," Takano began, as Usaki was mulling over this new development. "Sometimes, in order to achieve happiness, you might inadvertently take away someone else's. You cannot hold yourself responsible, though. Denying yourself things for the sake of others is all good and well to a certain point, but it's a bad habit to fall into."

"She's my f-friend." But so was Len.

"I know, dear. It's hard. But also remember that that doesn't mean she has any more claim on him than you do."

"Actually," Usaki started, wiser in the ways of girl friendships than Takano, but she was silenced by a stern look from Takano.

"Honestly, the rules or female code of honor or whatever you call it is nonsense. It would be different if they were dating, but even then, it would be their problem, not yours. The fact is, he doesn't have any obligation towards her."

"B-but I do," Shoko whispered. "I knew, but I w-went ahead . . ."

Takano sighed.

"You weren't trying to be disloyal, dear. The point is, you're both so young. Her feelings will be hurt, but that sort of wound heals quickly."

"But-"

"Let me finish. You need to make a choice," she said gently. "In the long run, this boy probably won't matter to either of you. So you have to decide if he's worth your friendship."

Shoko looked at her feet miserably. Which friendship? Her friendship with him, or her friendship with Kahoko?

"But you also need to remember that if you give up on him, and she ends up with him, that will also damage your friendship whether you want it to or not. You're only human, Fuyuumi-san. It will be impossible not to feel a little betrayed, whether you have a right to or not. And knowing you, you'll probably keep quiet about it and let it eat at you when you're by yourself."

"But if I a-act on it, I'll feel t-too guilty. I can't," she said helplessly. "Th-there's no winning. Kaho-chan . . . she's been s-so kind to me," she explained, realizing how true it was. "She's so n-nice to everyone. I c-can't," she repeated. "She deserves, f-far more than I do."

"Now wait just a-" Usaki jumped in, but Takano gave her another look.

"If that's how you feel, then that's your answer. But don't act hastily. Think about it, and then decide."

_How? _she wanted to know. _How can I? And how did I even end up here? _She felt like screaming.

"O-okay," she said numbly. "I'm going to g-go play my clarinet, now. I-I'll just be upstairs." She rose to her feet unsteadily, and headed towards the stairs.

She paused, and turned.

"Th-thank you guys," she said, genuinely grateful despite being more confused now than when she'd gotten home.

They nodded.

"Fuyuumi-san," Usaki said suddenly, staring at her intently. "You should . . . you should give yourself a little more credit, okay?"

Shoko blinked, wondering what that could possibly mean.

"O-okay," she said, and then did what she always did best.

She retreated.


	10. What DID just happen?

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except Takano and Usaki, but you probably knew that. And now random boy who confessed to Shoko.

A/N: This chapter was finished a while ago, but after receiving some feedback that identifies Len as out of character, I was hesitant to post this and thought I should rewrite it differently, which messed up all my plans for the last few chapters. In addition, I'm not in a great place right now, and so, like most other things I meant to do or was supposed to do, I forgot about it.

But then after posting Trouble today, I decided I'd like to finish the story, and perhaps in doing so, I sacrifice some quality, but if I don't finish it the way it was planned, I don't think I'll ever get around to finishing it at all.

So here it is. I don't even know how I feel about it, so a lot of you might hate it, and if it is a disappointment, I apologize.

For those of you who were curious or surprised about Len's trying to kiss her, I put an explanation at the end of the chapter so it doesn't take up space here and anyone who isn't interested can skip it.

Thanks to everyone who read, and to those who reviewed. To address some questions:

**the honest reader - **Thank you, and to answer your question, I will probably write a Shoko/Azuma fanfic at some point. I just sort of like the concept of that xD

**Dream Cager - **Thank you so much for sticking with this and always taking the time to review it. Truly, your feedback is invaluable, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. I was a little uncertain about introducing Takano and Usaki, and am glad to know it wasn't a mistake. As for the explanation you requested, there it is. I hope I haven't messed up with this chapter.

Again, thank you for reading, everyone, and enjoy!

* * *

By the time Monday came, Shoko discovered that seeing Len again was the least of her worries.

From the moment she'd stepped foot on campus, she'd noticed something strange was going on. People . . . people were _staring _at her. She was sure of it. Granted, she often felt uncomfortable and worried that people were looking, but on some level she'd always known it was her imagination.

But today it wasn't. Today she was sure they were looking. And not just looking - the unpleasant stares prickling at the edge of her awareness were accompanied by whispers and snippets of lurid-sounding conversation, her peers' voices laced with that _tone _which signified a secret that would not remain a secret for long.

Shoko was used to that; it was high school, people gossipped. Whispers were a regular occurrence among her classmates.

Yet somehow, one always knows instinctively when a whisper is about them, like a sixth sense. _People are talking about me._

She knew it, felt the dread that came with being caught in the spotlight.

But she didn't know why, and it was driving her crazy.

She told herself to ignore them, to just go about her business as if she were invisible and maybe she would be. She told herself she didn't want to know, that if she knew, it would just make things worse. If she knew, it would be impossible to ignore.

But even not knowing, she couldn't help but be painfully aware.

Desperately trying to brush it off, she headed towards her locker, willing herself to fade into the crowd, suspecting it would be impossible.

_22, 36, 14. Click._

She tucked her books into her locker, withdrew a few necessary course materials, and nudged the door shut, slowing it as it clicked into place. She didn't want to draw any more attention than was already on her.

They were still staring. She wasn't going crazy. Heads were turned in her direction, sporting blatantly speculative expressions.

She wondered if she had something on her face, but quickly dismissed it. Dried tissue plastered to her nose would provoke a few snickers, but she was causing a persistent disruption in the crowd.

Racking her brain for anything embarrassing she might have done, she ran through a brief checklist. She'd checked to make sure her skirt wasn't tucked up into her panties before she'd left the ladies room, not to mention she was missing the telltale sign of an uncomfortable breeze. Her hair had been fine, neatly combed and clipped. She hadn't gotten up on the teacher's desk and started dancing - at least, not that she knew of.

She shuddered at the last thought. She couldn't even visualize it.

Shoko was bracing herself for the walk to her first hour class when Nami appeared out of nowhere by her side, startling her into dropping her books. She scrambled to retrieve them, aware of all those eyes pinned to her, tracking her every move. By the time she straightened and dusted herself off, she was blushing furiously and desperately wishing she'd had the good sense to stay home today, nevermind that she never missed school.

Nami apparently didn't notice her discomfort. That or she didn't care. She had whipped out a little notepad, pen clicking impatiently above it as she grinned at Shoko, eyes sparkling.

"You sly girl. Since when has this been going on?"

Shoko stared back at her, uncomprehending.

"S-since when has w-what been going on? And sh-shouldn't you be getting r-ready for class?" She glanced down at her watch. Nami only had ten minutes to get back to the Gen. Ed. building and to her first hour lesson.

The girl waved her hand energetically.

"This is worth being late for. Besides, I don't know when I'll get another chance to talk to you," she explained, then sharpened her gaze. "Anyways, you know what I'm talking about. You and Tsukimori-kun."

Shoko could feel her brain going blank.

"Me and Tsukimori-kun." She repeated slowly, altogether forgetting the proper honorific and grammar.

"Yes! I can't believe you've kept this a secret. Admittedly, it's been easier since the concours ended and you slipped under the radar, but wow. No one would ever have guessed."

She shut her jaw, which had drifted open in shock. She sincerely hoped she was wrong about where this was going. The alternative was unthinkable.

"But wow," Nami continued obliviously, shaking her head. "Who would have thought he'd fall in love with you? Er, which isn't to speak ill of you. You're so cute, Fuyuumi-chan, a lot of boys admire you. But Tsukimori-kun? Until now there was debate over whether he even liked girls. Or even people," she added, frowning at some memory.

Shoko let her ramble, each word like a hammer to her ribs. She couldn't breathe. _Who would have thought he'd fall in love with you? _What was Nami saying?

"But anyways, the fact of the matter is he does. So when did you guys start dating? Actually, _how? _You're both kind of reclusive people, Tsukimori-kun especially. I can't even imagine how the two of you ended up together."

Shoko broke free of the painful spell.

"W-we're not. Why w-would you think w-we were?"

Nami blinked.

"Someone saw you guys about to kiss up on the rooftop. You were so absorbed in each other you didn't even notice them."

Shoko was horrified. _Someone had seen. _Neither of them had even heard the door. Len seemed almost possessed at the time, and she was wholly absorbed in her confusion and panic.

She supposed she ought to be grateful whoever it was didn't stick around long enough to see her shove him away, and yet she could not muster up an ounce of thankfulness. Really, she wanted to curl up under a table and cry like she used to when she was younger.

"I-it's all a m-misunderstanding!" she bit out desperately. "It's n-not like that. Not at a-all. I d-don't know what they th-thought they saw, but that w-wasn't it."

Well, it was, but it hardly mattered. She needed to kill the rumor as quickly as possible.

A chill went over her.

_He's probably heard it by now._

"Are you sure?" Nami's skeptical face simply fueled her embarrassment.

"_P-positive!"_

The other girl looked a little suspicious at Shoko's vehement denial, but shrugged and sighed, evidently deciding Shoko was probably telling the truth.

"So you and Tsukimori-kun aren't in love with each other?"

The phrasing had Shoko pause for a fraction of a second, her heart halting along with it.

She shook it off.

"N-no! Of c-course not!"

Nami looked disappointed as she tucked her pen and pad into her bookbag.

"Well. It is a little farfetched, I guess. Too bad," she lamented, straightening. "If you're sure there's nothing to it, then I should get back to the Gen. Ed. building. Sorry to bother you, Fuyuumi-chan."

Shoko nodded wordlessly, and Nami threw her a friendly smile before glancing at her watch, widening her eyes, and racing off. Shoko watched her disappear, a feeling of helplessness and anxiety overtaking her lungs, something she hadn't felt in some time now. It was returning with a vengeance.

But just because she'd explained to Nami, she realized, didn't mean that everyone else knew. She still had to face an entire day's worths of prying eyes and whispers in her wake.

And then the possible encounter with Len, which she'd been dreading to begin with. It would be a thousand times worse now, with the rumor hanging in between them, every eye on them should they meet.

She swallowed, mustering up the little courage she possessed, and turned to go to her classroom.

Halfway there, she paled, her feet numbly carrying her forward as another realization hit her, sweeping her stomach into nausea.

_Kahoko. Kahoko will hear._

Shame colored her skin as she unseeingly slipped through the silenced classroom, dropping into her chair. It was one thing to secretly harbor these feelings. To have pursued him even slightly before coming to her senses and doing the right thing.

It was an entirely different thing if Kahoko heard about it, an embellished version, and from someone else to boot.

Shoko did not hear her first hour lesson at all.

—

_No, _her whole self seemed to rebel. _I'm not ready, I can't, I can't, turn around and walk away._

But it was too late. The crowd had already backed to either side of the hallway, waiting with bated breath to witness the much awaited (on their part), much dreaded (on Shoko's) encounter. Did they not have anything better to do?

After a morning of automatically drifting through the routine motions, her brain far away and her stomach persistently upset, she had resolved to avoid Len at all costs. With any luck, she wouldn't have to face him today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.

The thought elicited a pang of something - relief? Certainly not regret - that she would forgo their comfortable lunch meetings in favor of hiding from him, but she didn't dwell on it. She was trying to focus on not thinking about it. About him, about the rumours, about Kahoko, about anything or anyone. She just wanted to get through the day and go home.

So, having resolved to do this, she'd left the classroom at lunch heading towards the cafeteria, hoping it would prove to be the lesser of two evils.

She had not taken into account that she might pass Len on his way up to the rooftop, or she would have cowered in the classroom longer.

But there he was, like every dream, nightmare, and cross between she'd ever had, striding in the direction she was coming from as if all eyes had not fallen on them, a collective breath held by those in the hall. Chatter had faded into quiet anticipation, and Shoko's legs propelled her forward using some source of strength she did not know she possessed.

She had no idea what to do. Should she say something? Ignore him? Turn around and run away screaming? _I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't, I don't, I don't!_

She, too, held her breath as they neared, waiting for the inevitable moment his eyes would fall on her, resentment or distaste or worse, cool impersonality written in their depths.

And suddenly he was so close, she could reach forward and tap him on the shoulder. She couldn't help it; she looked up, towards his face, trying to read his expression.

Blank, cold.

He walked right past her without even blinking.

Nearby, she heard an intake of breath. Someone giggled.

Shoko's face burned.

_What else did you expect?_

What indeed, she thought, and worked her way through the tittering crowd, trying to stop feeling.

--

As the hours dragged on, so did she. Even him ignoring her completely had not entirely snuffed out the rumors. If anything, it sparked _more_ curiosity and debate.

Except now, some of the stares were pitying. She couldn't decide if they were worse than the ones that were knowing. The ones that said, _Don't get ahead of yourself. Of course he would ignore you._

They all made her feel humiliated and angry and defensive and lonely, because even with her shame and embarrassment, she mourned the loss of a friend. It hurt to have the boy you liked ignore you, but even more, it hurt to have someone you'd been so comfortable and pleasant with act as though none of your conversations, either deep or light, had ever happened.

But no one mentioned it to her - which, really, was a blessing - and so she could not say anything, could not explain without looking like a stammering fool.

Her own forced silence, however, did not stop everyone else from talking.

"Did you see how he just went past her like she wasn't even there? Poor Fuyuumi-san! I guess this means they aren't dating."

"Of course they aren't. Do you really think he'd fall in love with someone like Fuyuumi-san? She's cute, and I think she's pretty nice . . . though, come to think of it, I haven't really heard her talk much . . . but she's sort of, well, dull. And she's so hard to talk to."

"Yeah, but don't forget, he is, too. Going off of how they got found out, I'd guess they don't do much talking."

Choked giggles followed this, and Shoko buried her head in her hands, their words echoing mockingly in her brain.

"You don't think they just go up to the rooftop to make out at lunch, do you?" A scandalized voice chimed in, further cheapening her hard-won friendship.

She hated this. She wished she could shut them out, but she couldn't stop herself from listening, morbid curiosity winning over her desire to be left alone.

She needed to get out of there before she went crazy. She tentatively raised her hand.

"Yes, Fuyuumi-san?"

"Um . . . m-may I please go t-to the l-ladies room?"

"Sure. The hall pass is on the chalkboard," her teacher said, and went back to grading a paper. She hated that as she stood, everyone looked at her. It was as if all the students had disappeared, replaced by stand-alone pairs of eyes boring into her as she exited the classroom.

But she had to leave. If she didn't, she was sure she'd burst into flames or throw up.

The moment she stepped outside, relief sank into her bones, and she sighed, some of the tension seeping out, the calm serenity of the empty hallway taking it's place inside her chest.

She walked slowly, intending to take as much time as possible. She was in no hurry to return to that stifling classroom. Instead, she wanted to be by herself, with her own thoughts, with this cool, refreshing quiet soothing her troubled nerves.

She trailed her hand along the wall, the exhaustion she'd fought to keep at bay making itself known. She wished it were Friday, wished she could go home after this and sleep for hours, locked away in her room with her clarinet, far away from this bizarre world full of strangers who cared whether she was dating Len or not.

She even nearly thought, for a split second, that she wished she could go back to the uncomplicated monotony of her life before Len.

But the thought did not complete itself, could not complete itself. _Because what's done is done, _she told herself. But that had never stopped her regret before. Really, the thought of erasing all the time they'd spent together left her feeling panicked.

_Why? Why is it so important? Why did he have to be so . . . so damned important? _she questioned bitterly, blinking back tears.

She was sick of the questions, all of the complicated questions that had come up lately, wanting answers.

Sick of wondering, about so many things. About him. Ever since the one day when she'd been late for class, nothing had been the same.

And it was all his fault. For being beautiful and cold, but not cold, and puzzling and magnetic. For making her feel worthwhile, not so out of place. For listening. For speaking in return. For being all the things that made him so compelling, that made her want to just sit with him and never move, that made her want to make him feel the same about her.

She focused her blurred vision on the tiles, slowly placing one foot in front of the other along the cracks as she walked, thinking of him, remembering him, missing him, feeling tired and ridiculous and sad. She thought back to the first time she'd seen him.

It had been perhaps a few weeks since she'd begun attending Seisou Academy. That morning, she'd woken up early, feeling restless, but she often did, even back then. So she'd done as she always did when faced with that problem. She pulled out her clarinet and played until the minutes had passed and it was time to move.

But she'd gotten distracted, and when she finally realized the time and raced out the door, she was coming perilously close to being late.

As it turned out, she made it to school with plenty of time.

But not to class.

No, because she'd been hurrying through the courtyard when she heard a loud crash and automatically turned to look. But as her head swiveled, a flash of blue dragged her attention to it instead, and suddenly she was totally unaware of the dropped textbook or anything else, the whole scope of her mind trying to wrap itself around what she was seeing, and then he turned toward the sound as well and she saw him and all of the sudden she was crying. Just like that.

Ten minutes later she was in the ladies room, hugging her book bag to her chest - the bell long since having rung - and desperately trying to make sense of her tears and this awful torrent of feelings that had sprung to life and were fighting for dominance inside her as leftover tears followed the route of their predecessors down her flushed cheeks as she sat, unable to move. Unable to get the sight of him out of her head. Unable to figure out the feelings that had taken over. It had started with that painful knot in her chest, the way her throat had closed up and the tears suddenly had appeared in her eyes not unlike her experience at the cake shop, when he'd laughed.

But back then, she hadn't known the feeling, was wholly unprepared. He was just a stranger. She knew nothing of him, and yet something in his eyes or his face or his posture or a combination of them had turned her upside down and knocked the air straight out of her lungs.

His image had plagued her ever since. When the concours was announced, her happiness at having been selected shortly thereafter mutated into panic because now she had to see him. Every second she spent even in the same room had her adrenaline racing, and every time he moved she nearly jumped.

And look where all that had gotten her. Walking down a hall, half-miserable, half-numb, and wanting nothing more than to run away and never come back.

Shoko was not far from turning the corner when she heard footsteps. They seemed to be coming from around the corner . . .

"Um, ah, Fuyuumi-san!" She whirled around, and the footsteps stopped. They must have belonged to the young man in front of her, she realized. But she could have sworn they were coming from the other direction . . .

She blinked. He was fairly unfamiliar. Not someone from her class.

"Um . . . I'm s-sorry . . . h-have we met?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something twitch in the opening between the nearest classroom door and the wall. People were watching. Shoko was thoroughly confused, having one minute been lost in solemn thoughts, and the next accosted by the fidgeting boy standing before her.

The young man turned red and laughed awkwardly.

"Ah, well, not really . . . I'm Shotaro Nagasaki . . . but, um, I just . . . I wanted to tell you I really admire you!" he blurted out, wincing as soon as he said it.

Not what she was expecting.

He continued on bravely, looking away.

"Um, I know . . . that is, I've heard that you're already . . . but if you aren't, I was wondering if, um, maybe you would consider me as a-"

"Excuse me."

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. How had she not heard him? She must have been too distracted by . . . Shotaro's? confession. She inhaled, and slowly turned her head, heart ready to lunge out of her chest and onto the recently mopped floor, forcing some unfortunate janitor to grudgingly come and dump it into a bucket of questionable cleanliness, where it would lie limply until someone threw it into the incinerator and the rest of her burned up as a result.

And there he was, towering over her as her brain carried out this trivial thought, definitely at the Tree stage of irritation.

Shotaro took an involuntary step back.

Len's eyes landed on him, cold and disinterested.

"In future, avoid exchanges like this in the hallway. You're in the way."

Shoko couldn't even say anything. She hadn't been so terrified of him in a long time.

She glanced back towards Shotaro, who may or may not have started shaking in fear. It could just be Shoko that had begun shaking.

"Um, ah, I'm s-sorry, I'll . . . move. Right. Uh, I'll see you later Fuyuumi-san, um, maybe we could talk . . ." he trailed off, sliding an uneasy glance at Len as he fidgeted with his hands. "Y-yes, later."

He ran back into the classroom, and Shoko caught the muffled exclamations of what must be his friends before the door quickly slid shut. She glued her gaze to the floor, at a loss.

"Um, I . . ." she began quietly.

But Len was already walking away.

She waited until he'd turned the corner, then went to the nearest locker and banged her head against it a couple of times before turning around and going straight back to the classroom.

—

" . . . And Shotaro-kun was confessing to her when Tsukimori-senpai came and basically said to back off because Fuyuumi-san was his!"

Shoko was ready to throttle the group of girls she'd been placed near for seventh hour. And she thought _she_ had a ridiculous imagination! As if Len would ever! Where did they come _up _with these things?

"Oh, poor Shotaro-kun! He's liked her for the longest time . . . guess he was just a little too late. That's terrible," one of them said, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

"Terrible?" Her friend dismissed her sympathy with an incredulous tone. "I think it's exciting. Even though he walked right by her earlier, he obviously cares for her."

"Eh . . . I guess so. It's just, he doesn't seem like the jealous type. He's usually so composed." _At least one of them has some sense. _Shoko's embarrassment was quickly turning to a bitter dryness fueled by her misery at being ignored a second time.

"You're kidding, right? Of course he's the jealous type. The quiet ones always are. It's probably why he always acts so emotionless . . . he's covering up his explosive nature. I totally _knew _it."

" . . . I don't know, Kana-chan. I think you just read too much Shoujo manga."

Shoko was saved from the rest of the excruciatingly painful conversation by the dismissal bell. She'd called Usaki in between class to let her know she would be staying after to practice her clarinet. She couldn't bear the thought of going home and thinking about this even more than she already had. She needed time to calmly sort through her thoughts, to clear them from her head.

She wearily gathered up her things, stopping by her locker to deposit books and the like into it and retrieve her clarinet. Then she made her way to the music rooms, traversing the crowded hallway with barely any of her usual reticence. Somehow, the way she was feeling just then, she was inured to the usual anxiety and self-consciousness. She mostly just felt tired, like her feet were moving only out of habit rather than a desire to get somewhere.

If anything, she was just relieved to reach the practice room and escape all the curious eyes that had stalked her down every corridor.

And of course, she'd been in there no more than ten minutes when the door was pushed open, the person emerging shortly thereafter causing her to choke mid-note. The clarinet screeched indignantly at the mishap and her hands fell to her side as she tried to clear her throat. Failed. Tried and failed again. Probably looked like a fish. _Oh, god. _She did feel like she was drowning. Oh, but fish didn't drown, did they? Not unless someone stitched up their gills, she supposed. But who would be so cruel, and for what purpose? She couldn't imagine how awful that would be and how on earth had she gotten here when he was standing _right there_?

"I apologize. I didn't intend to startle you," his smooth, cool voice filled the room, a sharp contrast to the melancholy melody that had rung through it before.

She swallowed, nodding wordlessly, uncertainty filling her with tension. Why was he _here?_

He shifted, looking uncomfortable for a fraction of a second before he lifted his chin and resumed his usual confident stance.

"I came to apologize."

Her heart launched into a series of clumsy tumbling. _Apologize? For ignoring me?_

He must have read her look of confusion, for his jaw tightened and he looked resigned.

"For trying to . . . to kiss you," he clarified, gritting his teeth like he was swallowing something distasteful.

Her stomach suddenly felt unpleasant. She nodded slowly, stunned.

He clasped his hands in front of him and continued on.

"It was completely inappropriate. I apologize if I offended you. It was a mistake," he explained. He hesitated, and looked genuinely baffled. "I don't know what I was thinking."

She stood, listening silently, her knees trembling slightly.

The silence stretched on for a few moments as she processed his words, and he looked at her expectantly. As if she were supposed to be mollified.

If anything, a most bizarre, dark feeling was twisting up inside of her. She'd unconsciously clenched her fists, and she felt . . . _irritated._

"You don't know what you were thinking," she repeated quietly.

He hesitated again, then nodded.

"That's all," he finished when she said nothing else. He sketched a quick, precise bow, and turned to go. She stared at his back, a black well of resentment and humiliation rising in her.

_The first time any boy has even expressed an interest in kissing me, and he apologizes. A mistake, he says. 'I don't know what I was thinking.'_

She blinked rapidly, the fierce power of the strange and surely unjustified emotions causing her to shake. But she couldn't help it. This was the last straw. She'd spent weeks in a wretched state of confusion over him, had felt the highest bliss and deepest misery because of him, had come to discover so many new things about herself, about him, had come to care so _deeply _for him, to look forward to seeing him so _much. _She'd tormented herself and lain awake thinking of him, wondering, hoping, drowning in this perpetual state of fear and longing.

What was more, she had already spent the entire day hearing people talk about how unsuitable they were. Mostly how unsuitable she was. She had been humiliated and picked apart by perfect strangers, dismissed and belittled, been laughed at, been pitied, been subject to all of their thoughts about her. And _then! Then _he had ignored her twice, and _now, _when she finally found some peace from all of it, from her shame and embarrassment, he slipped in cool as you please and affirmed all the things that people had been saying all day, that there was no way he would be interested in _her, _that it must be a mistake because he was _him _and she was _shy _and _plain _and _quiet, _and what's worse was that she _knew _this, had even taken solace in it, had no right to be upset about it, and yet she was _tired _of it, tired of fading into the background, of going unnoticed when she so desperately wanted him to notice her, tired of being someone who by all accounts, including his own, was _not good enough. _She was tired and furious and mortified that he of all people _apologized _for trying to kiss her and even as she felt these things she knew she was being unfair but that just made her even _angrier _and - and -

He hadn't even made it to the door when she tugged on his jacket sleeve, pulling him back towards her as she clutched his collar to hold him in place while she kissed him, knowing she shouldn't, knowing he would probably push her away, knowing she was just making it worse for herself and that when all was said and done she would just feel humiliated and for once in her life _she didn't give a damn and it felt great._

But he didn't push her away, just stood there stunned into stillness as she stood on her tiptoes, kissing him for all she was worth, injecting it with all her anger and shame and even those bitterly tender feelings she harbored and had for some time now, drifting in jagged pieces through her self as they cut at the rest of her, leaving wounds wherever her affection for him touched.

_I hate this, _she tried to tell him as her grip loosened and her shaking hands lifted of their own accord to his face and hair, tears burning at the back of her tightly shut lids. _I hate all of these awful feelings, I hate that I care so much, I hate that I can't control this when you're always standing there looking so proper and composed and in control of yourself and I wish for once it wasn't just me, and you would finally just-_

He kissed her back, for whatever reason she had no idea what was and at the moment did not care about and every thought in her head flew away at the touch of his hand on the base of her spine, the heistant pressure of his lips against hers, and she simply let go and allowed herself to be lost as their feet tangled and they stumbled forward until the cool solidity of the wall halted their movement.

She could not for the life of her recall how long they stayed like that, entangled and wholly absorbed in one another, clumsy movements carrying traces of desperation, before they were brutally shaken back to reality.

"Fuyuumi-san?" Nami's voice called, just outside the door. They both stilled immediately, keeping close to the wall in hopes she would not see them should she look inside. Shoko tried to control her breathing, and felt a stab of satisfaction that Len struggled with the same in spite of the imminent danger of being discovered. _I did that. _Even in the midst of her panic that she might be discovered, she felt childishly pleased.

But Nami simply called out once more and then moved on, her footsteps gradually fading into silence until the only sounds that remained were their flustered breath.

Len exhaled in relief, leaning over her shoulder to rest his forehead against the wall as she stifled a laugh. She couldn't remember ever having been in a compromising situation, let alone about to be caught in it, and combined with the aftereffects of the kiss, she felt a giddy, adrenaline-fueled exhileration coursing through her.

"That was close," he muttered, then glanced at her, immediately frowning. "Why are you grinning? Of all the people to catch us, Amou-san?" And suddenly they both froze as the words left his mouth, the reality of what exactly they would have been caught _at _finally hitting them, and with that single sentence, her moment of blessed recklessness made a crashing exit to match it's similar entrance, and she realized where she was.

Rumpled and pushed against a wall in the close embrace of the boy her friend was in love with, never mind her own feelings, having just been thoroughly kissed for the first time ever and probably the last time for a long while if not ever because clearly boys were very, very bad news, especially if they kissed you to the point where you forgot yourself completely and they forgot themselves completely and made you wonder if maybe you should forget yourselves more often and oh _god, _what was she doing, she needed to get _out _of here before she dissolved and he looked at her with those cold eyes like she'd violated him because she had violated him and he'd somehow gone insane briefly and let her violate him because that is what must have happened for the two of _them _to arrive at _this_ point.

She ducked under his arm, launching into a rapid shuffle to the piano where she'd set down her clarinet. He whipped around, startled, as she grabbed clarinet and case and made for the door. _Out, out, out, _she chanted, half-afraid he'd seize her arm and drag her back before she made it through.

But no, he just stood there by the wall, attempting to process her sudden turnabout and probably horrified in regards to his own shocking and uncharacteristic behavior, and by the time he flung open the door and stepped out after her she was halfway down the hall, leaving him to wonder in perplexed frustration what exactly had just happened.

And Nami, poking her head out of a practice room to view the commotion, watched the whole thing with wide eyes and her mouth agape.

* * *

_Now, to clear things up for some of you who were surprised by Len's trying to kiss her. My argument for it's plausibility is that Len is a seventeen year old boy who is otherwise not seeing any action and so oblivious to social cues, that when it comes to romance, he's not even thinking about it. And Shoko's a really cute girl and while their friendship is still awkward, it's still one of the first and only ones he's had. Actually, now that they've been eating lunch together, he probably talks to her more than anyone else. And there she was looking all cute, playing a lovely tune on her clarinet, and the mood was right, and if Len were well-versed in courtship or social interaction, he'd identify the setting and probably get out of there, but he's not. He's just going off instinct. Keep in mind, it doesn't mean he's decided he likes her, because he doesn't think about things like that. He just acted. And you can bet that afterwards he was thinking, "What the hell?" just as much as she was. The key here is that when he did it, he wasn't thinking _anything_ because he's never been in a situation like that before._

_Hopefully, things make a little more sense. Perhaps my perspective is flawed, but at least you know what it is. Since this is in Shoko's point of view, it's hard to figure out what is going on with Len, and I can see how it'd be unexpected. So . . . there's that. Thanks for reading _


	11. Of Houseguests and Midnight Visitors

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except, you know, the ones I do. Hm.

A/N: Ah. Hi again. I don't really have an excuse, so . . . yeah. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, if you're still reading, and I'm sorry for the long wait. Thanks for reading, and please enjoy!

* * *

For someone who could claim no athletic prowess whatsoever, Shoko had certainly been doing a lot of running lately.

She might have run straight home without stopping - she was half-afraid Len might pursue her, and he appeared to be in much better physical shape than she, not that she'd been looking. Or feeling, come to think of it. Or was at all appreciative. Ahem. - had the car not been waiting.

Under other circumstances, she might have missed it. As it was now, she very nearly missed it. After all, she had called Usaki and told her she would be walking today. There was no reason why the car should be here.

Except for one. The same reason why her mother would be standing in front of it, waving enthusiastically and calling, "Shoko! Darling, wherever are you going in such a hurry? Shoko!"

This was also the reason why Shoko did not miss it.

She slowed, glancing nervously over her shoulder. She didn't think he'd come after her. She definitely wasn't _hoping _he'd come after her. That would be a disaster, after all.

_But then, a lot of things have been disasters, _she thought glumly. _That doesn't stop me from running headlong into them._

It took her a few moments to process the situation, for three reasons. One, the fact that she'd just thrown herself at Len like a wanton football, two, there was a stranger next to her mother dressed in an atrocious ensemble which, upon further inspection, Shoko was horrified to find she actually quite liked, and three? Oh, yes, she'd just thrown herself at Len like a wanton football.

But process the situation she did, and once she had, she felt even worse.

She hadn't realized how much time had actually passed, she'd been so preoccupied with other things. Now that she thought about it, however, she supposed it _had_ been a few weeks since her parents left, and if anything, her mother was _late_ getting home.

But why did it have to be today, of all days, when Shoko had raced out of the music room wanting nothing more than to go home and pour her pathetic little heart out to Takano and Usaki over a hot cup of tea while the ratio of tea to salt water slowly changed in favor of her tears? Even before the events in the music room, she had counted on that haven all day long - if she could just make it to the end of the day, then . . .

"Have I surprised you? I'm so happy to see you, although part of me wants to scold you, too. Please don't walk home alone anymore; what with the way you always keep your head down like that, I'm not so sure you won't get attacked. And don't stand there staring at me like I'm a zoo exhibit, come give me a kiss. Oh! And I'll introduce you to Miss Cavendish, as well, don't worry, she's not going to be a permanent fixture, but I'm sure you will adore her, I told you about her in my letter - speaking of which, I am sorry I didn't write more frequently, this young lady here kept everyone so busy I hadn't the time nor energy to sit down and pen another letter - anyways, she's lovely, excellent company, I'm hoping she'll be a good influence, I'll tell you more in the car and - actually, are you feeling all right? You look a little flushed. More than a little, to be honest." Her mother ended the rapid sequence of her various expressions with a penetrating stare and a frown.

Shoko blinked, trying to process the great leaps between subjects at the same time she tried to quell the sinking feeling in her stomach. It was not that she was unhappy to see her mother; it was simply that even on good days, her mother was very much a 'small-doses' person for Shoko. But now, of all times? She wanted to cry in frustration. Instead of going home to the comforting presence of Takano and Usaki, she would spend the evening politely listening to her mother's travel stories, about which she'd be expected to feign a reasonable level of enthusiasm. And her mother had brought a guest. Shoko had never been good with guests. She was shy around new people, and for some reason it always exhausted her to play hostess, even if very indirectly. Just the sub-conscious discomfort of having a stranger in her home left her stressed and somewhat sensitive for days.

Yes, she had no doubt that the next several hours would be exactly what she did _not _need, and the knowledge had tears of frustration slipping into her eyes; tears which she absolutely must not let fall. Shoko made a point never to cry in front of her mother, who meant well but did not understand and thus felt uncomfortable and a little impatient whenever Shoko cried, which made Shoko feel stupid and unreasonable and small. It made it seem as if she were upset over the most trivial things, and try as her mother might to make her feel better, somehow, she always achieved the opposite.

So she blinked them back and smiled tentatively at her mother and Miss Cavendish, hurrying forward to kiss her mother's cheek.

"H-hello, Mother." She dipped into a wobbly bow in Miss Cavendish's direction. "Miss C-cavendish," she murmured. "It's a p-pleasure to mee-eep!" she squeaked as Miss Cavendish drew her into a hug which was really more of a glomp in Shoko's opinion, and she nearly went limp from the dizzying impact of her skull on the young lady's collarbone. Miss Cavendish must have been at least half a foot taller than she.

"Hello, it's so wonderful to meet you!" She said enthusiastically, drawing back and letting Shoko desperately try to regain balance. The smile that accompanied her excited greeting was a little sheepish. "I'm sorry if I've startled you, it's just . . . you're even more adorable than your mother told me. Shame on you, Kiri-chan! You should have warned me. I couldn't help but hug her. How old are you, love? Sixteen, right? You look younger, but it could be because you're so tiny. And so pretty! Like a doll. I agree with your mother, it's much too dangerous for you to walk home, as someone will surely try to steal you away."

Shoko thought that perhaps she should be flattered, but all she felt was alarm and vague terror. Miss Cavendish was a tall, waif-thin brunette with astonishingly blue eyes set in an angular, though not unattractive, face. And lots of teeth. It could be the wide smile, but Shoko had trouble seeing anything but the teeth when she looked at her.

"Um," she stalled. "Th-that's alright . . . and yes, s-sixteen, as of last November." She was a little amazed she managed to catch onto that train of thought.

"Lovely!" Miss Cavendish beamed. Kiri grinned. Shoko cowered.

"Well, Miss Cavendish and I came straight here after we freshened up at the house, so we're famished. Would you mind terribly if we stopped for something to eat?"

The thought of food made her stomach turn.

"N-not at all, Mother."

Kiri clapped her hands together with a satisfied smile.

"And we shall tell you all about the party. Ah, well, with a few exceptions. Young ears and all that, right, Eliza?"

Miss Cavendish grinned.

"Surely she's heard it all before!" at which Kiri only laughed and Shoko was certain she felt herself becoming smaller and smaller.

"No, not my Shoko. She's remarkably naïve, and, well, easily shocked."

_Maybe once, _she wanted to say. _But not anymore. _Really, she thought, she hadn't been for a long time. Perhaps easily shocked, she supposed. But she wasn't stupid, and she did have ears. And then there was her dratted imagination with it's tendency towards morbidity. She might be a _little_ naive in some ways, she thought, with a measure of defiance, but if anything, she'd long since finished mourning her childhood innocence, whether by accident or force. Quiet people who never _said _anything only _heard _more.

But she said nothing, as always, and slipped into the car at her mother's behest.

As the car pulled away, she chanced to look outside the window, towards the front of the school, and she thought her heart stopped for a moment.

There he was. Len. Standing by the entrance, simply watching her. She told herself she was too far away to see his expression, that she was imagining things and he was merely waiting for his ride and she should turn back to the conversation in the car and try not to think of him.

Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. Just looked at him, transfixed, as the car pulled away.

And she could swear his eyes followed her until they turned the corner.

* * *

"Miss Cavendish wore us all out dancing every night. I am disgusted by her youthful energy; truly I am. I don't think I saw her out of breath once, while I was there doubled over in a corner panting by the second evening."

"Oh, come on, it wasn't as bad as all that. I was just trying to make things lively."

Kiri cocked a brow. "You chased some of us around the room until we danced."

Miss Cavendish bristled defensively, lifting her chin.

"Nobody appreciates dancing anymore, and you know everyone loved it once they got over their self-consciousness. If I hadn't pushed, everyone would have stood around, bored as anything, like people do at parties. As I said, I was making things lively."

"By making us dance until we were half-dead?" she teased and Miss Cavendish blushed attractively. Shoko watched her in envy. _She _never blushed attractively. Just looked like a red balloon with a mop of sea green put on it. Not that she'd ever seen herself blush. But she was pretty sure she was a terribly unattractive blusher.

"Hm," her mother mused. "Do you have any interest in learning to dance, Shoko? It never occurred to me to ask, but really, I should have. I think you'd be good at it, given your excellent sense of rhythm."

Not so long ago, Shoko wouldn't have given it a second thought before fervently replying in the negative. Dancing left one open to all sorts of clumsy mishaps, which Shoko was prone to anyways, but more importantly, it was not something you could really do alone. The close proximity to someone else - namely, a boy, those dratted things - rendered dancing lessons out of the question.

Now, however, she wasn't thinking of tripping over someone's feet. Without warning, the first thing that came to mind was close proximity to a particular boy, which was really a very pleasant little fantasy for about a third of a second before _that _brought to mind the fact that she had been in very, _very_ close proximity to said boy not an hour ago.

She turned bright red and mumbled something that may or may not have referenced the moon and Norwegian flamenco dancers.

Her mother blinked.

"Do they have those? I should like to see that," she said thoughtfully. Miss Cavendish tilted her head and looked at Shoko curiously before she nodded in agreement.

"It does sound interesting. Are you always so quiet, Shoko-chan? I feel so bad, like we're making you sit there and listen to us babble on about something you don't really care about."

Shoko was mortified. Had she really given such an impression? She felt horribly rude, and would have made a move to apologize and assure her otherwise had her mother not laughed and answered for her.

"No, you ought not worry about Shoko, as she never has much to say. Besides, she once said how much she liked the stories, so please don't feel bad. Right, love?" Shoko could only grit her teeth in frustration. If her mother's tone had been even a little sarcastic or unkind, she could have gotten angry, could have indicated her frustration. But there was only warmth and affection in Kiri's voice and eyes, evidence of her kind intentions in responding for her, trapping her into a guilty silence.

Miss Cavendish looked relieved.

"I'm sorry, I know that I can get away from myself sometimes, and I'd hate to leave a bad impression on you straight off. If you decide you've had enough though, you need only to kick me under the table and I'll be quiet," she instructed seriously.

Shoko smiled tentatively in return, hoping she wasn't really serious. Even if she were, Shoko would never dare.

"N-no, please continue. Mother m-must have had a w-wonderful time, if she b-brought you all the way back t-to Japan with her."

"Mm, I wonder about that. Perhaps she's planned some revenge . . . please don't let her be _too _mean to me."

A small noise of indignation sounded immediately from Kiri.

"Now, _really!" _she scoffed. "I've no such plans. Or at least," she added, trading her offended look for one full of mischief, "I didn't before."

The pair giggled, looking for all the world as though they'd been friends for years. How did her mother do it? Was there some secret, magic ability that had simply skipped over Shoko, or what? Even as a child, when such things should have been a piece of cake, she couldn't make fast friends. And now . . .

_Oh, _she thought, heart twisting in her chest. _I should not have gone down that road._

Friends. Such a complicated thing. Was it that way for everyone? She thought having friends meant having someone to talk to, look forward to seeing, share your problems with, listening to and helping with theirs in turn. She'd never thought they would be _part_ of her problems.

"Shoko?"

"Ah! Yes?" she snapped back to attention, Miss Cavendish and Kiri looking at her expectantly.

"I asked you how you've been. It's been almost a month since I've seen you. And of course, you never write me back." Kiri spoke the last words with a fondly reproachful _look _in Shoko's direction.

_Of course I don't, _she thought to herself. _I never have anything to say._

"G-good."

Her mother nodded slowly.

"And? Nothing interesting happened?" She didn't sound very hopeful.

Plenty of interesting things had happened. But her mother was not the person to tell, especially not while a stranger was sitting right there. She couldn't even begin to imagine what her mother would respond with.

Or rather, she could, and none of them were things she wanted or needed to hear.

"No, Mother, n-nothing interesting."

Kiri sighed.

"Oh, well. I thought as much. But it doesn't hurt to ask."

Miss Cavendish smiled sympathetically.

"Nothing wrong with that. Someday. Besides, it could be worse. She could be out getting into trouble all of the time."

"True . . . though a little trouble never hurt anyone. Heh," she grinned. "I remember when _I _was sixteen . . ."

Shoko looked askance. She was ninety-nine percent sure she didn't want to hear about this.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's nothing terribly sordid, just some sneaking out and exploring the city."

She stared.

"Weren't you f-frightened, being out a-alone?"

Kiri shook her head, a pained look on her face.

"Really, it wasn't very smart of me. Any number of horrible things might have happened . . . but I didn't hear about that kind of thing back then and, well, when you're sixteen . . . it seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, even when you do hear about something, you figure 'It'll never happen to _me.' _You think you're invincible or something." She smiled wryly, wrinkling her nose. "Actually, I stopped when finally, something did almost happen to me."

Shoko hadn't ever heard this story. Her mother didn't really talk about her childhood much, now that she thought about it. She'd heard all of the travel stories - the funny ones, the embarrassing ones, and the just plain _interesting _ones - at dinner parties or in one on one conversation, but none of the ones from before their marriage. It was as if their lives hadn't really started until then, when they'd become adventuring partners in crime at a very young age, just out of college.

Shortly followed by her own arrival. She'd always wondered if she hadn't only been a hindrance to their fun.

Still, in spite of the fact that it had obviously turned out alright, Shoko was a little apprehensive.

"W-what happened?"

Her mother paused, absentmindedly turning her glass in circles.

"Oh, well, it was right after a concert I'd gone to with some girlfriends of mine, but we got into a stupid argument - I don't even remember what it was about. I was very sensitive and hotheaded at that age, so I ended up storming off alone. Anyways, three blocks away, I . . . I get accosted, shall we say. I thought for sure it was all over for me, but no - all the sudden the man gets shoved over and there's this outraged young man standing there, and he really - well, let us just say my would-be-attacker was still unconscious when we ran away." She grinned, but sobered a few moments later. "In hindsight, I ought to have been kinder to my rescuer, but I was still feeling very frightened and was a little hysterical. In addition to which, rather than backing off and comforting me, do you know what the punk had the audacity to do?"

Shoko and Miss Cavendish, eyes wide, shook their heads, waiting for her to continue.

"He scolded me! We finally stopped running, and I was standing there, doubled over gasping and still in tears, and he suddenly starts in on me - raised his voice and everything. 'You idiot! What are you thinking, wandering around at night alone? Are you trying to get yourself killed? What's wrong with you?' On and on. And I . . ." she scrunched up her face in embarrassment. "I was so shocked and indignant, I stopped crying and yelled back. Told him he was the stupid one, since he could very well have gotten hurt too, and he had an almost equal chance of getting into trouble walking around the city alone. I didn't even thank him. A couple of police officers came and broke up our screaming match and took me home, and my parents . . ." she shuddered. "I can't even recall how long they yelled at me. Anyways, I never sneaked out again after that."

"But what about the boy? Did you ever meet him again?" Miss Cavendish asked, eyes earnest. Kiri smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, yes. But I hadn't the faintest idea it was him until he told me a couple of years later. I'd actually known him even before that night."

"What?! Who was he?"

She hesitated, then smiled a little.

"Shoko's father."

Shoko's jaw dropped.

"F-f-father?! I th-thought you met at Univ-versity!"

"Ah, yes, well, that's when we met again," she explained, putting a hand to her reddening cheek. "I'm far too embarrassed to go around telling of our original meeting. Really, it does not present me in a good light at all. I won't say I didn't have fun, because I most definitely did, but I was hardly a, ah, _classy_ young lady, despite my parents' best efforts." She laughed. "They'd have loved it if I were nice and quiet and well-behaved like you, Shoko."

She knew her mother didn't mean anything by it, but she still felt a twinge of hurt, unable to stop herself from taking it as criticism.

Nonetheless, she did her best to brush the unpleasant feeling off.

"How could you not recognize him?" Miss Cavendish wanted to know.

"Ah, that is because he was from a very proper sort of family. At school, his hair was always combed nicely and he wore glasses and earned top marks. The night he helped me out, he was looking considerably less respectable – like a different person. And then when we ended up at the same University together - this was after I'd gotten my act together . . . well, mostly together - he approached me, told me he'd always liked me, and well . . . you know how that ended up. And then on our two-year anniversary, he made some unmistakable comment about that night and asked if I remembered yet. I felt _so _guilty . . . but, I also felt relieved. I did, after all, owe him an apology and a thank you."

"W-wow," murmured Shoko. Miss Cavendish shook her head in awe.

"How romantic!" she exclaimed. "You should tell that story more often, Kiri-chan."

Shoko's mother only wrinkled her nose in response.

"Oh, I couldn't. Too embarrassing. Poor Shoko is no doubt appalled."

"N-no . . ." To be honest, Shoko wasn't that surprised. It made sense that her mother would have been like that as a teenager. "It's a nice s-story."

And it was.

It's just, it made the difference between her and her parents seem even greater.

"I'm glad I told you then, love. Well, shall we head home? If I am not mistaken, Shoko has exams coming up, and she probably wants to study a little tonight."

Horrified, she realized her mother was correct. She'd been so preoccupied with this whole tangled mess with Len and Kahoko that she'd hardly gotten any work done at all.

"Oh! Certainly. I suppose the term ends in Spring here, doesn't it? I'd hate to be responsible for your doing poorly," Miss Cavendish said, waving over the waiter, who came and deposited the check on the table.

And sitting there, feeling tired and glum and very out of place as her mother and Miss Cavendish engaged in a friendly argument over who would pick up the tab, Shoko wondered with some doubt if she could survive the rest of the week.

_Probably not._

_

* * *

  
_

Usaki kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror on the way home. Shoko thought she might be attempting to tell her something with her eyes, but whatever it was, she didn't understand it, so she sat quietly in the back seat, nodding along politely to Kiri and Miss Cavendish's conversation and desperately trying to focus on their words or discerning shapes in the blur of passing scenery - anything to avoid the scenes playing out inside her head.

When they finally did get home, she had half a mind to ask to stay and sit with Kiri and Miss Cavendish. The thought of being left in her bedroom, alone with thoughts of the day's events and the expectation of studying, frightened her. She did not hold out much hope for clarinet practice, fairly sure that the moment she stepped inside and shut the door, she would fall victim to what could be hours of intense cogitation, torturing herself within the depths of her own brain as she was wont to do.

But the alternative was not ideal either. If she couldn't escape to unleash the torrent of angst in the comforting presence of Takano and Usaki, she would rather be alone than play games with her energetic mother and the equally merry Miss Cavendish. It was hard to play host to inner turmoil while in the presence of the lively and cheerful.

So, dreading the hours left until she could finally crawl into bed and meet a peaceful oblivion, Shoko excused herself to her room and, once there, pulled out her clarinet and tried to work.

Strong emotion usually made for superior play - except when it was too strong. Try as she might, she could not get her breathing even or the movement of her fingers precise. She would put her lips to the clarinet and, rather than feeling the cool wood of the reed, remembered the soft touch of Len's lips on hers. Her own burned at the memory, and face flaming, she would hastily gulp down water from the bottle she'd brought up with her and try again.

_Worthless_. She was absolutely useless tonight, no matter how many times she started over or told herself she should worry about it later. She had no practice separating her personal life from her studies; she'd never had the sort of distracting personal drama that so often book and movie heroines seemed to struggle with in every solitary scene.

Until now.

A week before her final exams.

She must have been born under an unlucky star or something.

_You're just tired, _she told herself. _Stressed out and sleep-deprived. You'll feel better tomorrow._

At least, she hoped so. If she didn't . . . well, then she'd deal with it tomorrow.

And with that thought, she put up her clarinet, closed her curtains to the fading light of day, and let herself drift until she floated away altogether.

* * *

_Clink._

Shoko started, wide awake in an instant, sure she had just heard something.

_Clink._

Her pulse kicked into a frenzied pace. She hadn't been mistaken. There it was, coming from her window. Like . . . well, it sounded like little pebbles being thrown against the glass.

Fairly certain the noise did not have a malicious origin but apprehensive nonetheless, she slipped out of bed, advancing slowly towards the window. Once there, she twitched open the curtain, eyes straining as she peered out into the night.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Hail? A bird, it's beak tapping impatiently against the barrier of the window? The paranoid part of her had even worried in favor of some terrifying criminal, come to drag her away, never to be seen or heard from again.

She had certainly not expected the person standing beneath her window, pale face lit by the glow of the yard lamps, shoulders trembling in the chill.

She threw open her window as quietly but quickly as possible and stuck her head out into the cool spring night.

"_Usaki-chan! _W-what are you _doing? _And w-w_hy?_"

The girl grinned, dropping the tiny white rock she was holding, and waved excitedly up at Shoko.

"Sneaking into your room in the middle of the night, basically. Throw down the emergency rope ladder, would you? I can probably scale the brick, but I'm not as spry as I used to be."

Shoko looked down at her in disbelief, wondering if this was really happening.

"You d-don't mean to s-say you've done this b-before?" she asked incredulously.

Usaki blinked innocently.

"Of course I have. Loads of times. Hurry up, would you? It's colder than I thought it would be."

She stared dumbly at Usaki for a moment longer, and then hurried to her closet, pulling out the rope ladder and hooking it onto the painted white knobs on the sill, which her parents had installed for this express purpose.

She sighed as she threw it down and her clearly insane driver began her ascent. Had she been even a little like her mother, no one would dare give her such an easy means of midnight escape.

Really, she should be proud to be responsible and sensible, flattered that her parents trusted her.

And yet? She wasn't in the least.

"Bleh, I'm getting _old. _Give me a hand up, would you?" Usaki grunted, clutching the sill as she clumsily threw her leg over it. "It's been a while since I've done this."

Shoko complied, hooking her arm through Usaki's and awkwardly pulling her through the open window.

"I'm n-not even going t-to ask."

"Eh," the older girl mumbled, dusting herself off. "That's probably for the best. Have you got anything to eat? I'm hungry."

"Um . . . I have s-some chocolate that Mother b-brought back from her trip."

"Oh, no, I couldn't eat your present! I was thinking something more along the lines of gummi bears or saltines."

"Ah, it would be o-okay . . . I don't l-like chocolate that much . . . b-but I think I h-have some crackers in my d-desk."

Her face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically.

"If you don't mind . . ."

Feeling somewhat dazed, Shoko fetched them from the drawer. A nurse had given them to her in lieu of lunch when she'd had an upset stomach once, but she'd never bothered to eat them, just stashed them in her book-bag and from there, her desk.

A few minutes later, they were comfortably settled on Shoko's bed, huddled in the lamplight, Usaki quietly munching on her crackers as she leaned against the wall.

"So, kiddo," she whispered. "What's up?"

"Eh?" It all felt so surreal, she wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

"Well," she said, nibbling the crisped edge off one of the crackers. "For one, you came tearing out of the building like the devil was after you – although I suppose it _is _school you were coming out of - before your mother even ambushed you. And you kept looking very tragic in the car. And . . . well, when we were pulling away, I thought I saw your violinist boy lurking by the school entrance, watching you." She shrugged, studying Shoko's face. "I figured something was up, and Miko-chan even said you looked pretty drained. Thought you might want to talk without your mother asking questions."

She must have interpreted Shoko's answering silence as a 'no' (when in reality Shoko was just trying not to turn into a watering pot because Usaki had actually gone through all of this trouble just to make sure she was okay) because she backtracked in her next statement.

"You don't have to, though. If I'm being weird, just kick me out. Well, not literally. It's only the second story, so I'll probably live, but it'll hurt and frankly, I'd rather you not."

_I do not deserve this much kindness, _Shoko thought, desperately trying not to let tears leak out. _But I'm so glad._

"N-no, no," she sniffed. "I'm j-just . . . you d-didn't have to, b-but I'm really g-grateful . . ." She bit her lip, and Usaki stiffened.

"Oh, _no_, please don't cry. I'm sorry, I wanted you to feel better, not worse!"

Shoko laughed.

"S-sorry, I'll try not t-to."

Usaki cast her a wary glance, slumping over then eying her suspiciously.

"If you're sure. So . . . tell me about it. What happened with your boy?"

Ah. This was the difficult part. What to say?

"Hmmmm? What's this? Are you blushing?" Usaki exclaimed, eyebrows shooting upwards, and with that, it all came spilling out with no trouble at all.

Usaki listened attentively, nodding and ooh-ing/I-see-ing in all the right places, her crackers rapidly disappearing along the way.

". . . a-and then I was just s-so embarrassed, I r-ran. I c-couldn't believe m-myself. What w-was I thinking?" she asked miserably. "It was s-so wrong."

"Well," Usaki said, wiping the crumbs off on her jeans. "First thing first: How was it? You didn't say."

"W-what?" she asked blankly, uncomprehending.

"The kiss," Usaki prodded. "How was the kiss? Good? Bad? Hot? Slimy? Did you like it?"

Her face burned out to her ears, and she looked intently at her toes, which were curled inward around the sheet.

"I . . . I . . . I m-mean, it w-was . . . I-I thought . . . y-yes," she mumbled.

"Yes to which?" Shoko squeezed her eyes shut. Now Usaki was just being _mean._

"Yes, I enj-joyed it."

Another one of those blasted knowing grins. She _hated _those.

"I've got to say, I'm kind of amazed. And proud of you. I mean, I know it's only getting you into hot water, but you must admit, that was pretty darn gutsy."

Shoko sighed, shaking her head.

"No, it r-really wasn't. It w-was a stupid, imp-pulsive thing, because I was s-so angry. Bravery had n-nothing to do with it."

"Mm, I don't know about that. Normally, if you were really upset, you'd just withdraw. For once you did something about it. I mean, I guess most people generally yell or break things instead of, you know, grabbing people and kissing them, but hey, whatever works."

Shoko winced. _Grabbing people and kissing them. _That was what she had done, wasn't it?

"On a darker note . . . this kind of makes things tricky," she continued, sobering, as did Shoko.

"I know," she said softly. "B-but I don't kn-know what to do about it. Oh, I don't know h-how I'm going t-to face him. And . . ." her voice got small. "K-Kaho-chan. H-how can I p-possibly expect her not to h-hate me?"

"Oh? You've decided what do then?"

She was silent for a moment, hugging her knees to her chest, chin tucked in.

"No," she whispered finally. "I know w-what I should do, but s-somehow, part of me is s-still rebelling. I'm s-so ashamed of m-myself, but even th-that's not enough to m-make up my mind." She swallowed, closing her eyes against the tears that had crept into them. "I d-didn't realize before now how t-terrible I am. I knew I w-was boring and hard to t-talk to, but I d-didn't know I was s-selfish and unk-kind."

"You're not-"

"But I _am,_" she interrupted bitterly. She wasn't trying to be difficult, especially when Usaki was being so kind, but she didn't deserve to have someone reassure her like this. She knew, better than anyone else what she'd done was wrong. And she felt it only fair that she be punished.

Usaki emitted a heavy sigh.

"Fuyuumi-san . . . I understand you're feeling guilty, but if you really feel like you've done something wrong, beating yourself up over it won't help anyone. If you honestly think you made a mistake, you should try and fix it."

She thought about this for a long moment. Mentally kicking herself over and over was her usual way of handling things, because she usually found it impossible to do something to fix things.

But in this instance, she could. Maybe not _fix _them, but she could at least make it a little better. Usaki made a valid point. Wallowing in self-recrimination was just pathetic and didn't help anything.

"Y-you're right," she murmured. "But even i-if I give up on him, what d-do I say to Kaho-chan? I don't w-want to lie, but . . . but I-I don't know if I c-can bring myself to tell her the t-truth."

Usaki nodded.

"It is a difficult call to make. You don't want to be dishonest, but you don't want to cause unnecessary hurt, either. Generally, I think that even if it hurts someone, you should be honest if you've betrayed them, even if it's over with and you aren't going to do it again. Some people think it's better not to say anything, because not knowing won't make a difference whereas the truth might devastate them, but I, personally, would be furious if someone took away my choice about whether to trust them or not. So while you might be trying to look out for their best interests, thinking it should be your burden to bear, it's still not your place to decide for them."

Shoko nodded slowly, feeling a little sick at the thought of confessing her sins to Kahoko, seeing the hurt in her eyes. She could see why someone would lie. You don't want to see those you care about be hurt.

_But if you really didn't want to hurt them, you wouldn't have done whatever it was in the first place, _came the merciless castigation of that ever-brutal voice within her mind.

"That being said," Usaki continued, shaking her from the guilty thought. "In this particular case, you haven't technically done anything wrong. She never told you or him that she liked him, so while to you, you've betrayed her, you couldn't be sure that she liked him, and she wouldn't expect you to know that. I think, had she verbalized it, you probably wouldn't have done anything."

"Yes I-"

"No. I really don't think you would. There's a fine line between knowing for certain and suspecting, and I think you let yourself do that because of the small chance that maybe it really was all in your head. Had she explicitly said she liked him, I honestly don't think you could have gone through with it."

Shoko wasn't sure. To her, 'strongly suspecting' was as good as knowing for sure. But she hoped Usaki was right. She doubted it, and they would never know, but still, she hoped she could be at least that noble.

"Soo. In this instance, I don't think you're _obligated_ to tell her. Now, if you still planned on pursuing him, you'd definitely need to, but if it's over anyways . . . you should say that you spent some time together and you did like him - certainly, you shouldn't lie outright - but I think, as far as what happened in the music room, you're entitled to your privacy and "I liked him," is sufficient. The details will only make her feel bad, and to go that far might just be twisting the knife in an attempt to absolve yourself of guilt. Any further information would be Len's responsibility if they begin dating. _But! _That's just my take on this. I'm not you, and you need to think very carefully and decide for yourself."

She nodded, mulling over Usaki's words. It made sense. Really, she had no choice but to give him up. She hated it, desperately so, but it was too late. There could be no grand romance or even a comfortable friendship now.

_If only Friday had never happened._

She wished so badly that she could go back to the way they were before. She would have been content with that. Kahoko couldn't have been hurt by that. She could have had them both.

But try as she might to will the time back so she could decline to practice her clarinet, she could not.

It had happened, and even if things had been salvageable after that, after what she'd done today, it was far too late.

She would just have to deal with it.

"Well," Usaki said, stretching. "It's pretty late, and you need to get some sleep. I won't lie to you; tomorrow is probably going to suck."

She cringed. Usaki was right. It probably was. But she felt a little better about it now, having talked to her. Not a whole lot, but some. She was still confused and uncertain, but things seemed far clearer than they had when she'd initially gone to sleep. She had no idea what she would have done had she not had Takano and Usaki the last couple of weeks. It was as if in addition to the storm fate had sent in her direction, she had been supplied with the necessary means to survive it.

"Th-thank you, Usaki-san. I . . ." she searched for the words. Her eyes felt suspiciously moist again. "I-if you and Takano-san w-weren't here, I'd . . . oh, I don't kn-know what I'd do. I c-can't imagine being al-lone through this. I'm sure I would j-just fall apart."

Usaki smiled, and awkwardly reached over and ruffled her hair.

"Eh, well, of course. We'll do our best to keep you together. That's what your parents pay us for, after all," she said.

Shoko smiled in spite of the threat of tears.

"I th-thought they paid you t-to make sure I e-eat and get where I n-need to be."

She wrinkled her nose.

"Ah, you're right. We'll be there for you because we care about you, then. Satisfied?" she arched a brow.

And Shoko couldn't help it. The tears fell.

Usaki groaned.

"Oh, _no, _I thought you said you weren't going to cry!"

"I'm s-sorry," Shoko mumbled. "B-but you said that a-and . . . s-sorry."

She rolled her eyes, but scrambled over and gave her a quick hug.

"Whatever are we going to do with this kid?" she muttered.

Shoko shook her head.

"I d-don't know. I think I'm h-hopeless," she hiccoughed.

"Ah, well. You'll grow out of that. Until then, we'll watch you like a hawk and butt into your personal life whenever possible," she said reassuringly. "But for right now, you need to go to bed and I need to get out of your room before your parents hear you crying and come in and blame it on me. You going to be okay?"

Shoko nodded, smiling at that.

"I th-think so."

"Good. I'm off, then," she said, moving to the window, where she saluted and proceeded to make her way out of it.

Shoko watched her clamor down the ladder until she hopped safely to the ground.

"Sweet dreams, Fuyuumi-san!" she called quietly, turning to go.

But then she stopped, swiveling back to look up at Shoko.

"By the way," she said thoughtfully. "You might also consider for a moment what _he _wants. Or, rather who."

Shoko didn't need to ask who 'he' was.

"What if he wants you instead of her?"

She shook her head.

"T-trust me. No one w-would want me when they c-could have her."

Usaki tilted her head, looking at her sadly.

"Hey," she called up softly. "Is this girl really that great?"

She thought for a few seconds, picturing Kahoko, her warmth and generosity, her bright smile and cheerful spirit, her compassion and strength.

And nodded down to Usaki, absolutely certain.

"Yes," she answered. "She is."

Usaki waited another moment, studying her face.

"I see," she said finally. "Well," she shifted. "I suppose it can't be helped, then. Good night, Fuyuumi-san."

And with that, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and began the walk back to the servant's apartments.

Shoko watched her go, feeling sad and content all at once. But in those mixed emotions, she found a sort of quiet peace, which sustained her as she drew up the ladder and shut the window, and which ultimately, allowed her back into an easy sleep.


	12. Food For Thought

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, La Corda D'oro or any of the characters found in it.

A/N: I'm sorry - for some reason, I thought it had only been a few months (which is still bad, but, you know, not as). I had intended to update much sooner, but real life has been a bit weird.

Thank you very much, everyone, for your feedback and kind words. Things might drag a little while Shoko sort of figures things out mentally, so if it becomes somewhat irritating, I'm very sorry. I am trying to keep a good pace without her overcoming some of her difficulties with unrealistic speed/ease. So . . . hopefully it doesn't get too tedious, and either way, I _should _update again within a week or so.

**Tentsubasa**, thanks for catching that ('that' being, Kahoko using "senpai" with Tsukimori, and Shoko opting for "kun" rather than "senpai" with Hihara – the latter of which I thought I corrected the first time someone pointed it out, but it would appear I did not, after all)! I always miss things like that. Also, thank you for taking the time to make a flow chart. I apologize, as I understand these details are important and can be very jarring when one is trying to read something. I will make a point to correct those things as soon as I can. Thanks again!

**DreamCager –** I'm going to apologize in advance, since it may remain a little slow for a couple chapters. But I was really happy to see you were still around! Thank you for always taking the time to read and review this :)

Thanks again, everyone, and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Tuesday sucked, just as Usaki had predicted it would.

Shoko was grateful to have slept so well after the older girl had left, or she wasn't sure she could have survived what the day had to offer. She'd woken up feeling refreshed and, while not quite optimistic, at least resigned to her fate. Breakfast with her parents and Miss Cavendish had been awkward but mostly painless, and by the time she reached the school gates, she was surprised to find herself able to move through them without being crippled by dread.

But, alas, it was all downhill from there.

Not two minutes after entering the school building, whom should she run into but the one person she most did not want to see?

She hadn't expected it. Well, she knew she would see him eventually, but they weren't even in the same year; what were the odds that he would be there right when she walked in, like some sort of predatory beast lying in wait?

Desperate not to have this confrontation, which she _so_ was not ready for, she'd frantically seized onto the first possibility of escape and done something she had not done in years: _randomly initiated conversation._

"N-nakamura-san!"

She did not want to do this. She really did not. But anything was better than scrambling to somehow explain things to Len, who was rapidly advancing on her, covering the short distance between them far too quickly for her comfort. Therefore, she had had no choice but to grab onto that excuse to occupy herself and practically accost the other girl at her locker.

"Uh," Nakamura blinked, looking puzzled, though not unreceptive. "Hi, Fuyuumi-san."

"Er . . . h-how are you?" So, so lame. She needed to come up with something better or this conversation would be over just in time for Len to drag her away to meet her grim demise. (Naturally this led to the too-distressing-to-be-amusing image of him calmly hurling his bookbag at her face before seizing her by the ankle and proceeding down the hall, with cool disregard for the exaggerated twitching of her form as it slid along behind him, and she almost missed what Nakamura said next.)

"Good . . . kind of tired, you know? I've been practicing like crazy, what with exams coming up soon. What about you?"

"Ah, um, I kn-know what you mean . . . alth-though, I haven't been as d-diligent as I usually am, s-since I've been a l-little distracted lately," she explained, voice carrying traces of her guilt. She'd neglected her playing shamefully as of late, and at the worst time possible. At the end of any other term, she would have given a similar answer to Nakamura's. After all, what did she have, besides her clarinet? What other worries, besides passing exams?

She would have started hitting her head on the nearest locker, but that specific storage apparatus belonged to Nakamura, who might take exception to her denting it in violent self-recrimination.

"Oh, I se-_Oh! _Right . . . yeah, I heard something like that," she said, her tentative smile all at once embarrassed, sympathetic, and curious. It took Shoko a minute to realize what she meant, so unaccustomed to being in the public eye was she.

"Oh n-no, I didn't m-mean-" but she stopped. That wasn't true. It actually was _exactly_ what she meant when she said she'd been distracted - or at least, most of it was. But when she'd said it, she hadn't expected Nakamura to know what she was talking about.

She should have, though. Should have remembered - _everyone _knew.

"W-well, I – ah, i-it's c-complicated," she mumbled lamely. It was, though. Far more than she'd ever imagined something like would be.

Nakamura nodded in sympathetic agreement.

"Yeah, it always is, isn't it?" she sighed. "Ah! But the bell's going to ring soon, and I wanted to ask my teacher something before lessons, so I should get going."

"Of c-course, I'm sorry, I hadn't int-tended to keep you. Um, it was n-nice talking to you," she stammered. _Meh, _she thought glumly. _Some things do not change. _She was still at a loss when it came to polite conversation. Although, perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought that, somehow, she might have gotten a little better.

The thought, and Nakamura's seemingly sincere smile as she next spoke, lifted her spirits.

"No, you didn't at all. It was nice talking to you, too! See you in class," she said, lifting her hand in a little wave, and setting off, leaving Shoko feeling quite good about the whole exchange.

"Fuyuumi-san."

Every hair on the back of her neck stood up.

_He waited? That whole time? _She hadn't been expecting that. Rather, she'd assumed he'd be long gone.

"Ts-tsukim-mori-s-senpai!" She swiveled around to face him, but avoided his eyes entirely, her gaze defaulting to his left ear, like it used to.

He gave her an impatient look.

_Nakamura-san said the bell was about to ring, didn't she? Where is it? Please ring, please ring!_

"We need to-"

_Brrrrrrrring!_

_ Oh, thank God!_

"Y-yes! L-later. Um, we'll t-talk . . . later. But I n-need to . . . to go . . ." she gestured awkwardly in the direction of her first hour class, nodding like a bobble-headed doll on the dashboard of a taxi.

He narrowed his eyes, giving her a long, scrutinizing look. If she could have folded into herself, she would have.

"Alright. Later," he said finally, nodded his goodbye, and left.

She turned and fled to her first hour class, feeling very much like she'd dodged a stream of bullets . . .

Yet was still in anticipation of round two.

* * *

Which, as it happened, fired in the form of Nami Amou's ruthless efforts to corner her, all of which Shoko very narrowly evaded at each of the three turns.

First, Nami caught her in her half-hour long morning study hall, pulling her to a deserted, dusty alcove of the library and turning a very serious, troubled gaze on Shoko.

"We need to talk."

"W-what?" After their last confrontation, Shoko was certain Nami could not bring anything but further bad news, despite the generally jovial attitude with which she did so.

Although, now, while she seemed excited, there was a somber undertone to the declaration.

"About yesterday . . ." she seemed uncertain how to continue, which was alarming in itself, considering her usual unabashed frankness. Add to that the fact that Shoko would, to be perfectly honest, prefer not to discuss yesterday's events with anyone, ever again, and she was definitely feeling trapped. "You see, I was -"

"Girls! Stop chatting and quickly finish locating whatever it is you're looking for, and then return to a des- What is a Gen. Ed. student doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

Shoko winced at the indignation in the disapproving librarian's tone, whereas Nami bit her lip, thinking for a moment, and then sighed.

"Arghhh . . . Sorry ma'am! I was just asking Fuyuumi-san something for the school newspaper. I'm the editor in chief," she explained, casting a bright smile at the older lady, who responded with a look of deep suspicion. "But I think I've got what I need. Thanks, Fuyuumi-san. See you later!" And as she passed, she whispered, "And I _will _see you later. This is important."

Shoko tamped down a shudder and nodded like she was totally up for this important conversation later today . . . when, in reality, she added Nami to her list of people she definitely wanted to avoid today. She didn't want to answer questions, or explain things that she still hadn't entirely explained to herself. She just wanted to get through the day, figure out how to explain things to Kahoko and what to say (eventually) to Len, and then disappear into obscurity once more, back to the simplicity and solitude of before, if a little worse for wear.

_As if I could be so lucky, _she acknowledged glumly, and trudged back through the maze of bookshelves to the wooden tables where she stared blankly at pages and thought of everything she never wanted to think of again.

The second time Nami almost got her, she was hiding out in her classroom at lunch, having watched Len head directly for the rooftops, apparently under the foolish impression that when she said, "Later," she was agreeing to meet him for Lunch once more.

_To that, _she thought in grim triumph, _I say 'Ha!''_

But she stayed too long, waiting to make sure he was well out of her way, because she was still there when Nami came bursting in, hair escaping from its elastic band, cheeks flushed, and breathing erratic, suggesting she'd run the whole way from the Gen Ed campus.

"_You. _We _really _need to talk."

_I'm sure Len believes the same, but I'm not talking to him, either, _was her private opinion on the matter, but she wisely kept it to herself, lest she provide Nami with anymore questions to ask.

"S-sure, what ab-bout?" she prompted instead, hoping her friendly smile was convincing.

"Yesterday, you know how you told me you and Tsukimori-san weren't dating, and there was definitely nothing going on there?"

"Y-yes . . ." She should have expected Nami to come back and ask again, so long as the rumors were still flying. Or perhaps she'd seen through her?

"Well, I wonder about that, and of course I haven't said anything to anyone, but I s-"

"Ladies? Can you please clear out of the classroom? I need to speak privately with this st- wait, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?" Shoko's English teacher stood in the doorway, brows furrowed and directing a perplexed gaze Nami, with a sullen-faced youth slouching behind him.

The look of irritation that crossed Nami's face was vaguely threatening, and Shoko instinctively took a step back.

"Sorry, sorry, Sir. I'm working on an article. I'm from the school newspaper," she supplied the excuse cheerily, and then pinned a steely look on Shoko. "We need to talk, _today. _Wait for me after school!" she ordered and Shoko, unable to recall a time when she had looked quite so . . . _fierce, _nodded guiltily.

"Okay," Nami said, apparently satisfied with the silent gesture of consent, and departed from the room.

And at a pointed glance from the teacher, Shoko followed suit, the wheels of her mind set spinning, already plotting ways to get out of this meeting.

And so a few hours later, she was lingering innocently enough at the gate, when Nami's unexpectedly strong hand wrapped around her arm in a viselike grip and had Shoko not been constrained by that grip, she might have jumped no less than a foot in the air. In fact, had this been a dark alleyway or other isolated place, she probably would have gone for her mace, so startled was she.

"_Finally. _I know you don't want to talk to me, but you really need to listen, because you can call it a personality flaw, but it is seriously killing me not to know for sure and if one more person interrupts me, I swear I will-"

"Shoko-chan! Amou-san! Hello!"

And all of the sudden, Shoko wished, desperately so, that she were tucked away somewhere safe and isolated talking to Nami, instead of here, hearing that voice which she prayed she was identifying incorrectly at the same time she knew she was not.

For the voice was unmistakable, and where it had once made her feel warm and safe and comfortable, it now had her insides going cold.

_Ah, yet another person I am not prepared to speak to._

"K-kaho-senpai . . ." her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears, as she turned around. She did not want to; she did not want to face the full force of that smile, or it's inevitable transformation into a tremulous line of hurt and bewilderment that Shoko, shy, quiet Shoko, could be so despicably cruel.

And there it was, wide and bright under warm eyes that shone with pleasure at the unexpected meeting.

"It's been a while, guys. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch . . . there was . . . well, I've been a little distracted lately," she said pleasantly, cheeks pinkening where she faltered. The happy sparkle turned to worry. "Amou-san, are you going to be alright?"

"_Yes,_" Nami ground out, teeth gritted into a very, _very_ frightening semblance of a smile. "I will be just _fine. _But I should really get home now. I'll see you tomorrow, _Fuyuumi-san?_" It wasn't really a question, and everyone there knew it, although Kahoko did not know why. Rather, it was Nami's polite way of saying, "If we do not speak tomorrow, I will hunt you down and tie you to a tree if I have to in order to make you listen."

Shoko, not really keen on being hunted down or tied to a tree - and certainly not both at once - nodded vigorously.

"Of c-course. I'll see you, then."

And, she realized with some dismay, she would have to. Nami was not going to take no for an answer, and it was unfair and cowardly of Shoko to keep putting her off instead of at least explaining that the subject was not really open for discussion just because she did not want to think about the situation with her and Len.

Not that avoiding Nami was helping with that. Everywhere she went, the situation seemed to be smacking her in the face, as evidenced by Kahoko's presence - after two weeks of no contact - here today.

"'Bye, Fuyuumi-san, Hino-san," she muttered, and set off (presumably) towards home.

"Sorry . . . I wasn't interrupting something important, was I?" Kahoko queried, uncertain.

"N-no, not really, she just w-wanted to know abou-" She stopped short, not ready to dive headfirst into that malodorous pool of stagnating water quite yet. "Ah, um, a-anyways, how have you b-been? Uh, I owe you an ap-pology . . . the p-party, I was . . ." She was not precisely sure how to explain it without detouring into other topics that she was not keen to discuss. "I w-wasn't feeling very well, and-"

Kahoko waved a hand, an understanding smile on her face.

"No, no, you don't need to apologize . . . really, I feel bad that you had to be ill that day. It was a lot of fun, and I wish you could have stayed and enjoyed it."

Kahoko looked genuinely disappointed on her behalf, and Shoko was torn between wanting to hug the older girl and the conflicting desire to slam her own head against the pavement until the traumatic impact drove her into blessed unconsciousness, where she did not have to hide things or feel so terribly guilty and confused.

"B-but, still, I'd w-wanted to say something s-sooner, but I've been kind of . . . things h-have been weird f-for me lately. I shouldn't have l-left you there alone, though." Of course, what she really was trying to apologize for was absconding with Len. On that day, that is, although she supposed she'd begun doing it afterwards, too.

"I was in good hands, though. Honest - it was a wonderful day for me," Kahoko told her, a secret smile of her own brightening her voice and eyes. Shoko wondered at the source.

"Then I-I'm glad . . . but, um," she wavered, knowing what it was time to do, but still reticent, heart pounding from nerves. She thought she might jump out of her own skin before she got the words out, and she still didn't even know what to _say. _"Ab-bout Tsukim-mori-senpai . . ."

"Oh! That's right!" Kahoko's eyes widened, and she clapped her hands together. "I wanted to ask you about that."

A cold, prickling feeling snaked down her spine.

"W-well-"

"I saw Tsukimori-kun at lunch yesterday, and he was acting a little weird."

Shoko blinked. It was not the painful accusation she'd been expecting, but she supposed it could still segue into one with relative ease.

"Weird? How s-so?"

"Mm," she thought for a moment, lifting a hand to her hair and frowning. "I don't know . . . he seemed distracted, which is strange, because he's usually so, uh, alert, I guess. Anyways, he made a pretty strange request."

Her shoulders tensed. A strange request? What kind of strange request? That didn't tell her _anything, _it could mean a marriage proposal or an invitation to scratch his back (both unlikely extremes, but _still_).

She blinked, realizing that if she wanted to know, Kahoko appeared to be talking again, which probably meant the answer to her question would imminently be available if she ceased her inner monologuing and actually listened.

" . . . on the rooftop, and he - he asked me to stand in this specific spot and play my violin while he sat by the door. And afterwards, he just sat and stared into space, with such a _serious_ expression, and then he left. Oh, he said 'thanks' and 'goodbye' first," she added, laughing. "But . . . yeah. Honest, it was even weirder than it sounds," she remarked, shaking her head. She was clearly puzzled even now, as she recounted the tale. "Anyways . . . I tell you this because - perhaps it's a long shot - but do you know anything? It's hard to get him to talk, to say the least, and I got the impression you and Tsukimori-kun were friends now, so . . . I'm sure it's nothing, but it was strange enough coming from him that I worried a little," she shrugged awkwardly, evidently not entirely comfortable asking Shoko lest her evaluation of her and Len's acquaintance be incorrect.

Shoko did not clarify this matter for her, as her mind was still working through this new information. Kahoko's story had any number of questions springing to mind, a few of the most pressing and perplexing ones being:

One, how was it that Kahoko randomly chose to go to the rooftop - after not having been in a while - on the same day the awful rumor about her and Len began circulating like crazy through the school?`

Two, if she had heard said rumor, how was she not exhibiting any signs of resentment or disappointment or hurt, and if she had _not_ heard it, well . . . _how did she not hear it? _Had Shoko actually been imagining the horrible extent of the rumor and people's interest in her personal dealings?

And finally, three: What on _earth _was Len thinking?

"N-no, I don't know anything ab-bout that, but, ah, K-kaho-senpai . . . I actually n-needed to talk to you regarding that."

She swallowed, feeling lightheaded and anxious, certain her stomach was flipping over in her torso if the nausea she was experiencing was any indication.

Kahoko blinked and looked at her expectantly.

"Eh? Sure . . . what is it?"

_Ergh, _she thought. _I'm not ready for this. _But she was fairly sure she would _never _feel ready to have this conversation, and now was as good a time as any.

"I th-thought you may have . . . I know r-right now people are s-saying . . ." She wracked her brain for the right words, but they were not there. Could there be _right_ words to describe what you've done _wrong_?

_The best thing, _she resolved, _would be to just say it and go from there. _"L-len and I-"

"Shoko! Are you ready to go?" Kiri, who seemed to have practically materialized right behind Shoko, interrupted, and then caught sight of Kahoko. "Oh, hello, I remember you, from the concours, right? I'm so sorry, I forget the name . . ."

And all at once, Shoko knew _exactly _how Nami felt, thwarted at every turn, though this was the first for Shoko. But once was enough. The thought of having to find her again later and try to start over was so overwhelming her knees went a little weak.

Kahoko snapped to attention in the face of Kiri's greeting.

"Ah! Hello, Mrs. Fuyuumi," she smiled, bowing. "Kahoko Hino, ma'am."

"It's a pleasure. I enjoyed your performances in the concours. I hope to hear you play again someday soon," she enthused, and Kahoko's cheeks reddened a little in response, but the smile curved a smidge wider.

"Thank you. I hope so, too," she said.

"Ah, Shoko - Eliza and I are going out tonight, but we wanted to eat with you, so Takano-san is preparing an early dinner. Are you ready to leave?"

_No. Could you please rewind the last five minutes and decide to wait at the corner or something so I could finish admitting what a horrible, backstabbing tart I am to Kahoko and get it over with?_

"Um, y-yes. I suppose I'll t-talk to you later, Kaho-senpai," she mumbled.

"Yes," she agreed, then clapped her hands together. "Actually, are you busy Saturday? It's been a while since we've talked, so we should do something."

Saturday? She would have to wait until _Saturday? _At the same time she was relieved, she wanted to scream. She didn't know if she could even take the weight of this secret until then.

_Deal with it, _she told herself bitterly. _It's less than what you deserve._

She nodded.

"I'd l-like that," she said, battling to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"Great! Um . . . do you want to just meet at the cake shop?" Kahoko suggested, pitching the idea with a sheepish grin.

Shoko smiled in spite of her internal discord.

"S-sure, let's do that," she agreed, and Kiri looked even more delighted about the prospect than either of them did, though she did not verbalize her apparent joy.

"I'll make certain she gets there. It was lovely of you to invite her, Hino-san. Thank you," she beamed at Kahoko, and Shoko inwardly cringed, vaguely feeling like her casual arrangement to hang out had turned into the platonic equivalent of a pity date.

"Eh? Oh, no, rather, it's nice of Shoko to come out with me. Everyone has finals, but music students have to practice on top of their studies, so I'm happy that she's choosing to spend some of her precious free time with me," Kahoko explained, and Shoko almost wept from the shame.

Kiri looked pleased with the response.

"Well, then I hope the both of you have fun! Shoko and I should hurry home, though; we have a guest this week, and I shudder to think of her getting bored and looking for entertainment herself," she told Kahoko, then looked thoughtful. "Oh, would you like a ride home?

Kahoko immediately shook her head.

"No, that's okay. I'm actually waiting for a friend," she added, smiling. "Thank you very much for offering, though."

"Certainly," said Kiri. "Shall we go, Shoko?"

"Ah! Y-yes. I'll see you on S-saturday, Kaho-senpai."

"Yup," the older girl grinned. "Bye bye, then!"

"'Bye," she responded, and then returned Kazuki's happy wave as she saw him emerge from the building. Kahoko swiveled around to see what she was waving at, and smiled as she spotted him, waving as well.

With that, Shoko turned and let herself into the car. The warm feeling she always got from speaking to Kahoko slowly faded underneath the darker ones she had, from guilt, anxiety, and what she was coming to recognize as a sliver of envy that in the end, he would be hers.

"Are we ready, then?" Kiri asked, turning around in the front seat to look at Shoko.

She nodded.

She did not trust herself to speak.

* * *

"_Kiri-chan! _Excellent news! Alex and Yakov have sent me an e-mail with an update on their trip! Dozens of beautiful photos - I was _sure_ I'd die of envy. You _must _come see! Takano-san said it will be at least fifteen more minutes, in any case."

"That _is _good news. Where were they off to again? The Andes?"

"No, that was Eleanor and her sisters. Alex and Yakov are in India. I suppose it won't be as interesting to you, come to think of it . . . but I haven't been there. Yet," she tacked on with a gleam in her eye.

"Oh, yes it will. And at the very least, I'm always happy to hear from them! Shall we go have a look?"

Miss Cavendish nodded enthusiastically, her excitement, so visible in her face, belying her young age where her poise and speech did not.

The pair made quickly for the door, when Kiri stopped.

"Shoko, would you like to come see? You've never been out of the country, so maybe this will interest you in doing so," she suggested, though her voice did not hold much hope for a sudden development of an adventurer's spirit.

Shoko quickly responded in the negative, though not because of lack of interest; she liked pretty pictures just as much as the next person (although she did have a little bit of a phobia about actually traveling). Rather, from the moment Miss Cavendish had come running out to greet them and shared her excellent news, Shoko had seen an opportunity and planned to seize it. She felt as if she had not spoken to Takano in ages, but for at least ten minutes, her mother and Miss Cavendish would be fully occupied, and it would be perfectly reasonable for Shoko to be loitering in the kitchen.

"If you're sure. Just come find us if you change your mind," Kiri told her, and quit the room with Miss Cavendish.

Shoko waited for the sound of retreating footsteps to fade into silence, and then bolted into the kitchen, stockinged feet slipping horizontally across the last stretch, causing her to wobble in the air and eventually seek support from the counter top.

Takano simply looked at her and quirked her brow.

"Uh . . . w-well . . . you know, it's s-so hard with her here, t-to find time to . . . n-not that I d-don't like having her a-at home, but - oh, you know," she repeated in a mumble, righting herself and fidgeting where she stood. "Er . . . I was able to t-talk to Usaki-san last night, b-but I like to hear what you have to s-say, too, if it's okay . . . a-although you are making d-dinner, so maybe n-now isn't . . ." It had sounded so lovely to race in here and confide every last terrible detail, but while she knew Takano cared, and would listen, it occurred to her for the first time that she might not be that terribly interested in Shoko's petty adolescent troubles.

A shadow fell across Takano's face, and Shoko was horrified to think her fears were not unwarranted.

"Yes, I think I heard most of it from her . . . she came and talked to me afterwards," she said, the corners of her lips dipping into a frown, before she shook her head and turned her attention back to Shoko with a smile. "I was hoping to talk to you today. Go on, I think we have at least a few minutes."

Relieved, though curious to know what exactly had provoked such a dark expression on Takano's face, she began to speak.

"I guess there's n-not much left to tell, then. B-but I decided for sure w-what I'm going to do. What I have to do," she added firmly.

"And what's that?" Takano queried softly.

"I'll t-tell Kahoko there's n-nothing between us," she said. _There certainly won't be after this. _"I'll still t-tell her we were hanging out, and th-that I sort of . . . sort of liked him, because I d-don't want to lie to her about it, but that's all," she explained. Her heart seemed to shrink in and tighten as she spoke her resolve, but she took a deep breath and pressed on. "And I'll let her know I-I'm over it. So she d-doesn't worry. Because she . . . she d-definitely would."

Her announcement was met with a thoughtful silence that lasted a long moment before Takano nodded slowly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking directly into Shoko's eyes, her gaze intent.

Shoko fought the desire to look away, and stared steadily back.

"Yes. I th-think it's what's right. And . . . I'll g-get over it. It isn't l-like it's the end of the world."

Because it wasn't, and she would. She knew it - that she would just pick herself up, dust herself off, and keep moving, as people did. Looking back she would probably even laugh at herself for making such a fuss over something so small and irrelevant.

She was just afraid it would take a very long time, and that until then, she would suffer for it.

"Alright," Takano agreed, ceasing her scrutiny. "Yes, if you think that's what's right, then that's what you should do."

Shoko frowned.

"D-don't you think it is?"

Takano shrugged.

"Honestly? I have no idea. You're the only one who can say. The best you can do is whatever you think is right, and then hope it really is. I'm proud of you, though, for making a decision. I know it was and will be hard for you, and I think it says a lot that you're owning to any mistakes you've made and trying to fix things."

"Oh," she said, torn between the influx of pleasure at the statement and the confusion it came with. "Th-thank you," she added, unsure how to respond.

"Of course. If you get nothing else out of this, Fuyuumi-san, I truly think you've come along way personally."

Shoko blinked, wondering what she meant. She couldn't see that she'd made any progress as a person. If anything, she'd only proved the inherent fault of her nature.

But she did not argue, just nodded silently, and for a while, nothing more was said. Takano moved to extract a foil-wrapped pan from the oven, and Shoko settled into her thoughts at the set table.

A few minutes passed, the quiet disrupted only by the rustle of movement as Takano moved back and forth across the kitchen, laying out food across the table's surface, until finally, they had only to wait for Kiri and Miss Cavendish.

"Though," Takano started abruptly, and Shoko straightened in her chair. "Who I really feel bad for here, is Tsukimori-san."

"W-what do you-"

"I'm sorry it took so long, I hope we did not keep you waiting," Kiri apologized, breezing into the room with a pleasant smile. "It smells divine in here. Oh, I forget sometimes how nice home is."

"Takano-san, you are not, by any chance, interested in moving to England, are you?" Miss Cavendish inquired, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.

"Oh, no you don't! It's horribly rainy where she lives, Miko-san - say no!" Kiri urged, looking horrified at the prospect.

"I don't know . . . I think I rather _like _the rain . . ." she grinned.

"No one likes _that much _rain!"

She sighed, looking apologetically at Miss Cavendish.

"Kiri-sama is so adamant, I can only say no. She's yet to lead me astray, so I'll have to trust her on this matter."

"Blast," Miss Cavendish mock-grumped, then added darkly, "And it doesn't rain _that _often." Kiri turned her eyes skyward and Takano chuckled.

For her part, Shoko could only manage a half-hearted grin, still troubling over Takano's final words.

_Tsukimori-senpai? _She knew he would not despair much at the loss of their friendship. More importantly, in the end, he would have _Kahoko_.

What could he possibly be upset about?

* * *

"U-um, then I'll s-start now," she announced awkwardly, still a little stunned by the suddenness and rapidity with which she'd been ushered from the kitchen to the parlor and instructed to play for them after dinner had ended.

Kiri and Miss Cavendish nodded encouragingly, and with that, Shoko put the instrument to her lips, a little nervous at Miss Cavendish's presence, praying she would not err in her performance.

She selected an upbeat song for her first, one she knew well and was confident in. It lasted only a few minutes, at the end of which she tried to discreetly examine the pair before her in an effort to gauge their reactions.

Kiri fairly beamed at her, and Miss Cavendish's lips had settled into a dreamy smile, which she interpreted as a positive sign, and when she sat up and enthusiastically requested another, Shoko dared a harder one, which she was still practicing for her exam.

She settled into the lengthy melody, closing her eyes against the warmly lit parlor and the two women seated before her, and focused on prompting the fluid, steady voice of her clarinet. And she was, for the first time in a long while, able to focus. No thoughts of Len or Kahoko broke in and distressed the notes of her song this time. It was simply her and the sounds she had loved as a little girl and now, as an older one, was finally able to produce with reasonable skill, filling the room and subduing the storm within under a temporary spell of peace.

She finished the song on a content exhalation, and Miss Cavendish clapped her hands happily while her mother smiled up at her.

"Shoko? Kiri? Miss Cavendish?" The faint call drew away their attention, and Kiri sprang to her feet.

"Oh! That will be your father, Shoko. I'll be right back, ladies," she promised, and strode from the room with a merry step.

As she left, Miss Cavendish turned to Shoko with a look of admiration.

"You play so beautifully, Shoko-chan!" she exclaimed. "Your parents did tell me, but I assumed at least some of their praise was influenced by the fact that they _are _your parents. But it turns out they were being entirely honest."

Shoko colored at the compliment, uncertain how to respond.

"Th-thank you, I'm happy to h-hear you enjoyed it. I'm s-surprised they said anything ab-bout me at all, though," she said truthfully. Considering everything her parents had seen and done, she _was _surprised she'd earned anything more than a passing mention in the form of a 'Yes' in response to the question of whether or not they had children.

"Really? They speak of you quite frequently, actually. And of course, everyone's always curious about what you're like, considering Kiri-chan and Haru-kun . . . and I mean that in the best of ways."

The pleasure at having been praised diminished a little as unease set in. _Quite frequently? _What exactly did that mean? And, it left her to wonder what they said about her. Really, other than playing the clarinet, she did nothing of interest . . .

Which left only the bad things. And, her own opinion of herself aside, if the constant attempts at behavioral modification over the course of her childhood were any indication, there were a lot of bad things.

She felt a little sick.

"Oh, no, you need not look so grim," Miss Cavendish laughed. "All good things. They're really proud of you. Your mother, especially. You can tell she's very fond of you."

Shoko blinked, stunned.

_Really proud? Fond? Mother is? _The idea so contradicted her own perception of things, that she was truly baffled. In fact, she wondered if Miss Cavendish wasn't making it up, for the sake of being polite.

But no - she seemed so sincere.

"R-really? I wouldn't have th-thought . . . I mean, I kn-know she loves me, of c-course, but . . ." she paused, not wanting to reveal too much or put her mother in a bad light. "I-I'm not really . . . I'm not l-like them," she confessed, tightly clasping her hands around her clarinet. "I th-think they would have p-preferred it if I were . . . that is t-to say, I think I'm a b-bit of a d-disappointment."

Miss Cavendish just stared at her, not bothering to disguise her utter bewilderment.

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"W-well, it's just . . . I'm . . ." Shoko bit her lip in frustration. She knew she shouldn't have said anything, that Miss Cavendish, who was as mad and delightful and comfortable in her own skin as the both of Shoko's parents, could not possibly know what she meant, thus leaving Shoko to try, in her broken, muddled words, to explain it. "I-I'm just s-so _boring. _E-even they don't like t-to be around me; it's why they're a-always travelling. Because b-being at home with me is l-like this int-terminably dull _ordeal_."

Her grip on her clarinet tightened as she said it, and she nearly winced as the final words left her mouth. It sounded so harsh and awful, even to her, but it was the truth. Her parents seemed to leave for some foreign destination every time the chance arose, and when they were home, though they made an effort to spend time with her, their encounters usually consisted of them telling stories and Shoko struggling to find something, anything, interesting to say in response and coming up blank. She would not find her company desirable, either, if she were them, and she was sure they did not.

Miss Cavendish raised her brows, and Shoko wished she could take the words back. Miss Cavendish was a stranger and, more importantly, her parents' friend. To speak so candidly on this subject matter was almost certainly poor form, and she knew better.

She colored and averted her gaze, mentally kicking herself for becoming so careless with her words.

"Well . . ." Miss Cavendish said, blinking. "I suppose you would know better than I would," she conceded slowly, then shook her head. "Though that isn't at all the impression I've gotten. It seemed to me, from what Kiri-chan said, that she's just not certain-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just updating your father on the plans for tonight, and speaking of which, we should head out, Eliza. Are you ready, or would you like to freshen up?"

Shoko was surprised to find herself frustrated at this interruption, in spite of her embarrassment at having spoken inappropriately. Excessively frank or not, she was now curious to hear what Miss Cavendish was going to say.

"Ah! Yes, you're right. Our reservation at the club is set for six thirty, isn't it?" she inquired, her attention moving away from Shoko.

"I believe so. I have to say, I'm quite excited. I've never been there before," she explained, her lips curving upward in a mischievous smile.

Alarms went off in Shoko's head.

"The c-club?" she echoed tentatively, although if even her mother, as daring and adventurous as she was, had not yet been there, it was probably some place scandalous.

And therefore, probably something Shoko wanted to know nothing about.

"Oh," her mother replied evasively, wiggling her fingers in the air. "Just a place downtown."

She said nothing more, and wisely, Shoko did not ask again.

"Shall we go then?"

Miss Cavendish nodded, standing and straightening her canary yellow pencil skirt (which might have been perfectly respectable, and pleasantly bright, even, if not for the black ruffles and fishnet to be found elsewhere on her person, and good heavens, how had she failed to notice those _shoes? _Surely she could not actually _walk _in them?) while Kiri turned her attention to Shoko.

"We'll likely be late getting back, so don't wait for us, alright? You'll want plenty of sleep if you're going to be studying a lot."

Shoko had stopped waiting up for them when she was twelve, but she smiled mechanically and motioned her assent.

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning," she said, leaning over to kiss the top of Shoko's head.

"'Bye . . . h-have a nice time."

Miss Cavendish's eyes flickered back over to her, her face shadowed a moment before Shoko's parents moved to leave the room.

"Good night, Shoko-chan," she finally murmured, and departed from the room.

Shoko remained in the room for a time afterwards, attempting to sort through her thoughts as she reflected on her conversation with Miss Cavendish.

Despite the convincing sincerity with which Miss Cavendish had delivered her words, Shoko had several years worth of progressively pessimistic cogitation on the subject of her relationship with her parents, all of which persuaded her that whatever beliefs Miss Cavendish had come to harbor in her brief acquaintance with them were, to say the least, at odds with the reality of it.

_And it isn't just what I've determined from my brooding, _she thought, more or less aware of her tendency to overthink things until she came to an unjustifiably grim conclusion. There were the small snippets of childhood memories which occasionally surfaced, featuring Kiri and her gentle remonstrations throughout her early youth, and Haru, a mostly peripheral oddity, always affectionate and good-humoured, yet distant; but then, there were a couple of specific, vivid scenes, one of which sprung to mind now, featuring a dialogue which had colored her view of things since she had accidentally overheard it.

How old had she been? Five? Six? Her parents had been hosting a dinner party, and had put her to bed early, but she was too tense to sleep, agitated by the distant hum of noise. Instead, she'd crept down the stairs to the parlor, where she'd discarded her two favorite dolls a couple of hours earlier. She'd quietly entertained herself for some time, setting her dolls afloat on the wooden coasters atop the coffee table, imagining the glass to be an endless stretch of sea as her despondent charges drifted aimlessly across it, before that hum grew suddenly louder, joined by the sound of several pairs of approaching footsteps . . .

_Panicked, Shoko swept her dolls from their humble boats and raced from the room, slipping through an archway into the sunroom rather than back out into the hall, where she would surely be subjected to a most unwelcome encounter. Fervently opposed to making an escape through the french doors leading outside to an ominously dark terrace, she stowed herself under the tea table, her heart maintaining a frantic pace as she crouched away from the light spilling in from the parlor._

_ ". . . must have left the lights on," her mother's voice sounded as it became audible, and a series of halting steps and the airy sound of depressed cushions suggested the party would be settling in for some post-dinner entertainment. Her spirits sank, and she instinctively tightened her grip on her dolls. Now, how could she find a way out? Stupid! She should have risked darting out into the hall._

_ "Is she asleep then? I would have liked to see her; it's been a couple of months," a familiar voice remarked. Ms. Eiko, if she was not mistaken; a long-time friend of Kiri's who had visited a number of times before._

_ "Oh, I'm sorry! We sent her to bed early, since sometimes she struggles with large groups, as you know."_

_ "Aw, that's a shame. Not that I would want to upset her, but she's such an adorable little thing. So shy!"_

_ "Not just that," another voice interjected. Shoko could not quite place it. "Kiri-san warned me, but when I met her last time I was shocked. Say, she isn't adopted, is she?"_

_ Shoko heard her mother laugh. "What, she doesn't look like us?"_

_ "No, it's not that," they explained hurriedly, then added, "She certainly looks like she'll grow up to be as lovely as yourself. But . . . I was expecting someone a little more . . . after all, she _is _yours and Haru-kun's."_

_ Shoko frowned. 'A little more' what? What were they trying to say?_

_ "Oh, that. I know what you mean," her mother replied, and Shoko straightened, going forward onto her knees as she strained to listen, although they were already clear enough._

_ "Don't get me wrong, I don't think that's a bad thing. It's just a surprise. You and Haru-kun are so lively and amusing, but she's so subdued."_

_ Subdued? What did that mean? Shoko gritted her teeth in frustration, wishing she understood what they were getting at._

_ "It's true. She doesn't laugh much. Or perhaps I'm just not funny. She's really very sweet though, and I think it's alright if she's a little dull. Though I do wish she'd be a bit more outgoing . . . but then, she'll probably have a lot less trouble than we did. My mother never stopped telling me I was weird all growing up," her mother joked. "At any rate, I used to worry there was something wrong with her, but the doctor said it was just a personality type."_

_ Shoko's heart sank. She was pretty sure she knew what dull meant, because she'd heard someone say it about her and she'd asked her teacher. It meant boring. Uninteresting. Mother didn't think she was interesting. What's more, she'd thought there was something _wrong _with her!_

_ "I don't know if she's dull, necessarily," Her father offered, and Shoko nodded, hands clenching into fists. See! Father understood. "Maybe a little distant. But even though she likes to play by herself, she's not uncreative about it. I still don't know what she was doing with the cat figurine and the peanut butter." This produced a shout of laughter from the other guests, and Shoko's face reddened. She was just pretending to feed it, but she couldn't reach the milk in the fridge. Anyways, it didn't go very well. She couldn't quite get the peanut butter off the cat, and it got all over her and Father had laughed when finally, frustrated at every turn, she had tentatively gone into his study, sticky cat in hand, and asked for help. She supposed it was better than him getting angry, but it had made her feel so _stupid.

_"That's true," Kiri conceded thoughtfully. "I guess whatever is going on in her head is more interesting than anything that happens outside it. She won't sit still for movies, either, you know. She always wanders off after ten or fifteen minutes."_

_ "Some kids just don't like television."_

_ "Oh, I know. It's not even that so much as – well, she doesn't enjoy playing games, either . . . I guess, she seems most content when she's by herself. Spending time with her is difficult."_

_ Shoko slumped where she sat, trying to make sense of this information. She thought she had fun with her mother. She liked it when she sat and played and Kiri sat next to her. Sometimes she wished she wouldn't keep interrupting the game, or trying to get her to do something else, but it was nice to just have her there. She never thought it wasn't fun for her mother. Certainly, she didn't think it was 'difficult'._

Well_, she resolved, a little teary-eyed. _I'll tell her she can go away, then, so she doesn't have to.

_ "Ah, well, it's like that with all children. You just don't know what they're thinking, eh? In any case, there's nothing wrong with being shy or a little quiet. Like you said, just a personality. But it is a little weird that she shouldn't be anything like you," they admitted, and Shoko bit her lip. Yes, she was. She looked like her mother. Everyone said so. And Father was quiet sometimes, too._

_ But she didn't get along with people, like they did. And sometimes Shoko thought what they liked to do was a little boring. Or they talked about things she didn't understand. But she thought they were still fun. Didn't they think she was still fun?_

_ "And you haven't even seen what a sweetheart she is. Nothing like me at all," her mother quipped, but Shoko did not interpret this the way she intended. Her world already felt completely off-kilter, and somehow the remark made her feel even more hurt._

_ "Fuyuumi-sama? Dessert is set out," the housekeeper intoned respectfully, halting conversation._

_ "Is it? That's wonderful, thank you. Everyone, if you will?" her mother queried, and at the shuffle of feet and creak of furniture, Shoko's focus went back to her current predicament, and with great relief, she recognized her chance._

_ She waited, holding her breath as she listened to the dinner guests file out of the room, and through a prolonged silence following the last audible footstep. After this seemingly long amount of time had passed, she let out her breath and went to the doorway, peeking around the door jamb and heaving a sigh of relief as the empty room came into view. She raced through the parlor, into the hall, and less than a minute later slid beneath the duvet of her bed._

_ She did not, however, fall asleep for a very long while._

But the present Shoko did not necessarily remember the specifics of that overheard conversation; rather, she recalled only her own interpretation of it – a realization of how things stood which she had since then considered to be an absolute truth, and which she had used as a foundation for any number of gloomy suspicions and perceptions.

Was it then that she decided '_it's a personality', _and embraced those core characteristics? Perhaps it had been the beginning, but she was inclined to think that she might have overcome this self-prejudice had it been rooted solely in insecurity. Instead, the years had reinforced it and enabled her to settle more closely into that mold, which led her to sadly conclude that indeed, it was the way she was always meant to be.

But tonight, this familiar verdict seemed somehow more flimsy than usual. It left her wondering if she possessed the whole picture, and if so, had she examined it fairly? It occurred to her that a five year old's perception, while eerily acute at times, could also be disastrously faulty, a thought which left her wondering: Could she have been wrong?

She toyed with this idea for a moment, and though she sincerely attempted to come up with an answer contrary to what she tended to believe, she did not think so. But it did spin a few new threads of thought, and as she sat there frowning at the edge of the rug, she carefully considered that even if one was not exactly _wrong, _one might not be entirely _right, _either, and suddenly, she was put in mind of Len.

Len was not, as she supposed she had indeed been telling anyone who said otherwise, cold. But if she thought about it, he was, in some ways. He was certainly not a warm-natured person, in spite of how considerate, tolerant and, dare she say, _kind _she had seen him be on some occasions. Although she hesitated to allow anyone to label him cold, she could not deny that even in the ways he was kind, it was in a . . . minimalist fashion. Even when he'd apologized, with visible awkwardness behind his words, his speech and manners _had_ been very cool, and reserved. She recalled how, in her early days of watching him, she had shuddered to imagine him in a genuine fury. But now that she knew him a little better, albeit still not intimately, she suspected that Len would not explode. He might become curt, or if his anger stemmed from some other strong emotions, reckless with his words, but he probably wouldn't instigate a fistfight with anyone, or get into a yelling match, or push over furniture and scatter papers uttering exclamations of angry frustration as he wrecked a room.

So, even in a state of terrible fury, Len would mostly keep himself in check, or at least wait until he was alone. He would be angry in a fashion similar to the one in which he did everything else: cool, restrained, and most of it kept internal rather than projected outward.

However, just because he was those things did not mean he didn't get angry, or behave kindly, or feel any of the numerous emotions entirely different people felt as well. Which meant, perhaps, that the same logic applied to herself.

Yes, she remembered that even before others had made her believe it, she was shy. New people unnerved her and took quite a long time to get used to. And no, she was not vivacious or fascinating. Although she was happy to contribute when she did have news or something to say, she often struggled to find things to say, and was comfortable with letting others talk or with just sitting in companionable silence. She didn't like being alone all of the time, but she did need time to herself. And she also internalized problems, analyzing things in her mind and coming to conclusions without really articulating to others what she was thinking or feeling, even if it seemed to herself she had gone over it ad nauseum. That had very much annoyed her mother, she remembered guiltily. She supposed she had not exactly been an easy child, her minimal entertainment value aside.

In any case, she could fairly conclude she was not completely wrong. But in the same spirit of fairness, she could also recognize that when she did feel comfortable with someone, she did not mind talking. Although she was quiet, her mind was very busy. She did not do anything particularly interesting and she lacked charisma, but she was learning to view the oddities which cropped up in her brain optimistically, as a feature – to the right people – rather than a bug. So yes, to some she might be boring, but not to everyone. And in recent weeks, she had begun to understand that of course you would seem boring if you didn't say anything. How could you become close to someone if they shared nothing? For years now, she had thoughtlessly failed to facilitate movement past polite, safe conversation when she spoke to people – her parents included - and had attributed the few who had made attempts at friendship with her and their subsequent loss of interest to her inescapably dull nature. In hindsight, however, she could have found things to say, could have invited them to talk about things, but she had played it safe, deeming all her thoughts unworthy.

_And your obvious statements about the weather were worthy? _She asked herself now, cheeks hot. She _had_ been a little stupid, hadn't she? But she was learning!

At any rate, she wondered now if, despite being a little shy and not exactly a chatterbox, she still fell somewhere on a normal spectrum of personality types. She'd never be outgoing and daring and open about her feelings, but that didn't automatically mean she should be alone forever, playing her clarinet in solitary brooding as she watched others living their lives. That was obviously ridiculous and she could not believe she hadn't realized before now that that was basically where she was directing herself.

"Idiot," she said aloud, standing up and shaking her head. So, she understood a few things now. But that meant she was also now confused about many things she had previously thought she understood, and regardless of any better understanding of her self, she remained at a loss when it came to her parents and _their_ view of her.

That would have to wait, however, because the hour hand on the clock had somehow crept alarmingly close to eleven, and as she stood up and the weariness in her bones made itself apparent, she realized how relieved she was to find it bedtime.

Thus, she determined to disregard these problems for tonight in favor of returning to them at more convenient time, and took herself off to bed to get some much-needed – and well-deserved, she thought – rest.


	13. One Down

Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, La Corda D'oro or any of the characters found in it.

A/N: I am _so_ sorry, since I'm fairly certain I said something to the effect of "in a week" but, as stupid and vague as it sounds, the time just gets away from me. It's as if there's always something else that needs doing. Regardless, I really do promise to try harder in the future.

Thank you very much to everyone for reading this, and to everyone who reviewed. I really, really appreciate it. Also, thank you to GalanthaDreams, for their kind reminder. I very likely would not have updated for another month were it not for your message. Sorry for the long wait, and thank you for sticking with this!

As always, please enjoy. :)

* * *

"What? You're actually here? Of your own volition?" Nami asked the next morning, stopping three feet short of her and staring at her in disbelief.

"Of c-course I am . . . why w-wouldn't I be?" She asked, trying to look as innocent as possible in spite of the fact that they both knew exactly why she wouldn't be.

If anything, Shoko was even more surprised than Nami was at her presence. Yes, she'd resigned herself to having this conversation, but she assumed it would be when Nami came and found her sometime today. Certainly, she had not planned on arriving to school an hour early and stationing herself directly at Nami's locker.

And yet, there she was, feeling a little ill but otherwise committed to talking about whatever it was Nami wanted to talk about.

For her part, Nami only glanced at her with vague suspicion before focusing on the task at hand.

"Alright, then. But we can't talk here. Someone might overhear. And I do _not _want to be interrupted again," she added darkly, then proceeded to drag Shoko into a nearby . . . closet?

"U-um, are you s-sure this is the b-best place to . . . it's a l-litle cramped, isn't . . . er, neverm-mind, this is f-fine," she amended hastily as Nami shot her a withering glare.

"Good. Now," she began, securing the lock on the door. She paused for a moment, setting her bag down and shifting a mop situated within a bucket in order to make herself comfortable, then turned her full attention to Shoko. "You told me you and Len weren't dating."

"We're n-not," Shoko affirmed, suddenly feeling very uneasy.

"Then what _is_ going on with you two?"

"Nothing," she insisted quickly. Nami was the last person she wanted to know anything about this . . . _thing _with her and Len, whatever it was. Because once Nami knew about it . . .

Well, then _everyone _did.

"Really? Last time I checked, making out in the music room was not 'nothing'. It at the very least amounts to friends with benefits."

Shoko thought her heart might have stopped. She hadn't known what exactly to expect from this confrontation, but she figured it would be more of the same. It hadn't even occurred to her that Nami could have . . .

"You s-saw us?" she whispered, trembling with panic and desperately wishing she had misinterpreted Nami's words. But she knew she could not have. They were very clear.

Nami sighed, shutting her eyes briefly before opening them again.

"So you were making out. I was hoping I was drawing the wrong conclusions, and any other time, I wouldn't have even _thought_ of it . . . but after the rumors . . ." she trailed off, shaking her head in what must have been the remnants of disbelief. "Anyways. Now that I'm sure . . . Why did you lie to me?"

Shoko ignored her question, a surge of horror sending her heart skipping frantically as she realized the implications of Nami's knowledge.

"H-have you t-told anyone?" she demanded, though she was already sure of the answer.

"Of course not," Nami said, looking insulted - unjustifiably so, in Shoko's opinion. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

She must have correctly assessed Shoko's expression - part relief, part incredulity - because her eyes narrowed.

"Well, that answers that," she bit out, glowering at Shoko for a few seconds before sighing, her anger softening to hurt.

"S-sorry," she mumbled guiltily. "It's j-just . . . I-I mean, even s-somebody else, I would be w-worried, but . . ."

"Especially me?" Nami finished reproachfully, cocking a brow. Shoko looked away, trying to appear as contrite as possible, though all she could think was, _Thank God, thank God, oh, thank God she hasn't told, _so relieved was she to have her fears assuaged.

"I wouldn't. First of all, I never, ever say anything before I've confirmed it. A journalist's credibility is their livelihood. Second, I deal in stories, not tidbits of sordid gossip. And when I do say something, I put it in print such that no one, whether it is me or the subjects, is ashamed of it." She paused, scratching her head. "Well, except in the event of criminal behavior. _But,_ as far as something like this goes, if it hits the paper, it goes in as an account of a great romance between two well-known members of our school community. _But only if that is what's actually going on_. Which brings me to my final point." She looked Shoko square in the eyes, her own becoming serious. "I know I can be nosy and pushy and highly irritating, even, but I _can_ respect that sometimes, someone's personal life is just that - personal. I'm cool with a 'None of your business, get out of my face.' But to blatantly _lie_ to me . . . perhaps I _am_ wrong to feel this way, but it's very upsetting, because though we're not super-close, I'd like to think we have a sort of casual friendship wherein you would feel comfortable telling me you didn't want to talk. Except now I feel like you think I'm some kind of sneaky, underhanded, ruthless gossip who will sell your soul for a story."

Shoko listened silently, at a loss for what to say and when, torn between shame and a stubborn shred of resentment. She didn't know Nami very well, had never been an especially hot topic even during the concours, what with so many brighter people taking center stage, and thus hadn't spoken to her as much - though when she had, the other girl was always very pleasant, if a little quirky. How was she to know that her secret was safe until she allowed it to be shared? She was worried any explanation of hers would be blown out of proportion, and also . . .

At the time, it _was_ nothing. Or it was going to be. What happened Monday in the music room was a completely unexpected wrench in her plan.

"I am not," Nami continued. "But someone else might be. And thus, the main reason why I am here, my curiosity and wounded pride aside. I don't know what is going on, you know, since you haven't exactly been forthcoming, or how long it's been going on, but I will say this. You've been caught at it twice now. If you wait it out and Len continues acting the ice princess, the rumours will die. But if there's more fuel for the fire, the fire will burn. Be more careful, okay? If you're going trysting, for at least a little while now, I'd do it off school property." She took a deep breath, the spark in her eyes fading to tiredness. "And that is all I wanted to say.

Shoko did not even bother going on the defensive and bursting out into the usual heated denial. Not only was she tired of it, she was no longer certain she could keep delivering the line with any conviction. No, she and Len were not in the midst of either a great romance or a torrid affair, as their fellows students were speculating, but there was something going on. Nothing so scandalous or dramatic as what the rumours suggested, but then, nothing ever was. In reality, it was just an unfortunate, tangled mess of mistakes. Her botched attempt at a social life, she supposed.

But it was still _something_, something she could not entirely discount.

So instead, she let the remark slide, and put forth her best effort towards pacifying Nami.

"I'm s-sorry. I'm really sorry. I d-didn't mean it as an offense t-to you. I didn't lie b-because I thought you'd tell." Although that was part of it. "I lied bec-cause it w-_wasn't _anything. O-or it wasn't s-supposed to be. And then that th-thing happened. I d-don't know." And she really didn't know what else she could say. She supposed she could wax dramatic about her complicated feelings and how hideously wrong her life had gone – and Nami, actually, might even be happy to listen – but at this point, all she really wanted to do was go lie down in a corner and sleep until her world equalized and returned to normal.

Would it ever?

"B-but no, I don't r-really want to talk about it. H-however, if I ever do, you'll b-be the first to know."

She wouldn't, though. Even if she lost her mind and chose to publicly shame _herself, _she would never do that to Len.

But her response seemed to satisfy Nami, who regarded her a little more kindly.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head in apparent satisfaction. "That's fair. I suppose we should relocate now," she noted thoughtfully, tilting her head towards the mop, which had over the course of the conversation steadily drooped sideways and whose handle was now butting into her ribs.

"That m-might be ideal," she agreed, suddenly aware of the strain in her back from being crowded into the shelved corner.

Nami gingerly extricated herself from her trappings and led the way, pushing open the door and stumbling into the hallway, then reaching out to hold the door and gesturing for Shoko to follow.

"I'll see you later, okay? Remember what I said, though . . . just in case, be careful about what you do and where you do it."

_Trust me, _she thought. _I will._

"Y-yes. Thank you. I'll s-see you, then," she said, lifting her hand in a little wave.

"Yup, bye-bye," Nami said, grinning, and let go of the door, stepping forward and rapidly setting off down the hallway.

Shoko waited until she was out of sight before she let out a sigh of relief. _At least that's out of the way, _she thought.

"You shouldn't have apologized."

Had it not been so firmly attached to her person, she might have jumped out of her own skin.

"Ts-ts-tsukim-mori-s-s-senpai!" she stammered, spinning around to face him in shock. He arched a brow at her, and straightened from his position leaning against the wall.

"I was unaware my name had quite so many syllables," he said dryly, but she was not fooled by the glibness of his tone. The tension in his shoulders and the accusatory cast to his gaze as it fell upon her were a far more accurate indication of his mood.

Which, she thought, and not with a little fear, seemed to be moving _past _the tree stage of irritation.

"Um," she started, wracking her brain for what to say, and more importantly, how to avoid the conversation that would inevitably take place if she did not conjure a method of escape within the next two minutes. "H-how long w-were you standing there?"

"About the time Nami had her suspicions confirmed. That is irrelevant. In any case, you shouldn't have apologized. Friend or not, it isn't any of her business."

"W-well, it wasn't s-so much that I lied, but the m-meaning behind it. She th-thought I didn't t-trust her," she explained, trying to slow her pulse. She hated that, in spite of the fact that he was the last person she wanted to talk to right now and she would probably give her left foot to get out of it, her heart had still kicked into an excited sprint when he had made his presence known.

_No good traitor, _she mentally scolded it, the excitement dimming. _You know he's not for you._

"Has she given you any reason to?" he asked, drawing her focus back to the conversation and the issue of engineering her escape from it.

Shoko thought about it. On the one hand, Nami had consistently operated in the name of truth and justice. On the other . . . well, she was _Nami. _She loved a juicy story, and reporting them was what she did. Personally? While she had never betrayed Shoko, she had never proven herself trustworthy. She had never had the opportunity to do either.

"No, b-but . . ."

"The you shouldn't have apologized. And she should not have asked."

"She d-did want to w-warn me-"

"She could have done so without asking. Whether you or she realizes it, she was attempting to manipulate you into sharing more than you were comfortable with, and more than she deserved to know. And you let her."

"W-what is your _problem_?" she hissed, feeling embarrassed and defensive and still at a loss as to how to weasel her way out of talking to him.

Though she supposed fighting about Nami was preferable to addressing their . . . their . . . their _thing._

"My problem," he said stiffly, "is that you did not apologize because you regretted lying to her. You apologized because she made you feel like you had wronged her when you did not really think you had. But you were cowed into feeling bad because she's being too sensitive. It's one thing to allow people to push you into doing things, but when you allow them to push you into _feeling_ things?"

"And j-just what do you th-think _you're _d-doing right now?" she retorted, face flaming. She could not believe it! She had avoided him, knowing he would want to know her intentions, knowing she was still far, far away from being prepared to say whatever it was she was going to say, but she had not, in any of the countless scenarios her mind had run through ever since she'd resolved to cut ties with him, conceived that he would stand here _scolding her._

He blinked, taken aback. His mouth opened once, then closed. He looked away, fragments of guilt splintering through the anger in his expression as his jaw tightened for a moment.

"You're right. I apologize. I didn't come here with the intention of criticizing your . . . personal dealings," he said finally, meeting her eyes. She wished he had not. For all that the words coming out of his mouth were courteous and apologetic, the cold anger was still strongly present in his gaze. She tried to suppress the dread coiling in the pit of her stomach, grasping through her thoughts for an appropriate response.

"Th-then perhaps you should h-have left when you f-found me otherw-wise occupied," she returned, hating that she was only antagonizing him further but not sure what else she could do.

Besides, it felt good to fight. She never fought with anyone. And Len, for all that the thought of losing his presence in her life cut painfully at her heart, was still responsible – however indirectly – for her current predicament. He had completely sabotaged her peaceful, reclusive lifestyle with the irresistible lure of his very essence. So why not fight with him? Surely, he deserved a taste of this disquiet and vexation, too.

And even if he didn't, even had she not been in the mood to lash out at someone, inwardly hurting as she was, she still might have. A precious few more moments with him, even those spent in bitter contention, were to be seized and prolonged as best they could. _As pathetic as that makes me_.

"Because, strangely enough," he ground out, "You have been very difficult to find, recently. And, much as I hate to be in accordance with her, Amou-san is correct. It is not 'nothing'. I don't know what it _is, _but it nonetheless needs to be addressed."

_If I run now, _she speculated bleakly, _he will probably catch up to me. There's no getting out of this._

The realization left her feeling very desolate.

"Ahem . . . sorry if I'm interrupting something, but I left my bag in there . . ."

Hope soared the instant she heard Nami's voice, and her pulse picked up as the other girl shuffled around them to slip into the closet and retrieve her messenger bag. All she had to do was find some excuse to follow Nami away from this dangerous atmosphere and the fate that awaited her here.

"Argh!"

The pained yelp sounded from the closet, and Shoko rushed over, positively thrilled. With any luck, Nami had been rendered immobile and would need assistance – and therefore an escort – to get to the nurse's office. Guilt immediately followed the thought, but not enough of it to quash the blossoming hope.

"A-are you alright?" Shoko exclaimed, rushing into the cramped little closet to aid Nami, whatever misfortune had befallen her.

"No – erk – I've got something in my eye . . . Owww," she moaned, batting at her left eye. "I can't get it – can you see it?" she turned to face Shoko, tilting her head up as she widened her eyes and tried not to blink.

Shoko peered into her eyes, searching for the problematic foreign object, but the light in the closet was too dim, and the fluorescent glare coming in from the hallway failed to be of any help either.

"I'm s-sorry, I can't," she told her.

"Drat!" She went back to dabbing at her eye for a moment while Len hovered uncertainly in the doorway, looking less and less concerned and more impatient. "Ack - Shoko-chan, can you come with me to the girls room and help me get it out?"

"Of course!" she assented hastily, pretending she did not see Len's eyes narrow at her enthusiastic response. "I-I hate when that h-happens," she murmured sympathetically, offering a hand to Nami, who grasped it and stood, clumsily lurching forward towards the door, her other hand covering her eye.

"Sorry, Tsukimori-kun," Nami said as she passed him, voice stiff with pain. "But you'll catch her later, I'm sure?"

"Yes, I will," he assured her through gritted teeth.

"S-sorry, Tsukim-mori-senpai," Shoko parroted. "Unt-til then," she murmured, and hastily pulled Nami in the direction of the girl's room. Nami flailed her hand at him in some vague semblance of a wave goodbye before returning it to the afflicted eye and tripping along after her.

Shoko didn't need to look back to know he was watching them go.

She was fairly certain she felt the flames of hell licking at her heels.

* * *

"I don't really have anything in my eye, of course," Nami said, hoisting herself onto the restroom counter and eying Shoko warily. "But you looked as if you were about to be sacrificed to cannibals or something, and I had to take pity on you."

"Th-thanks. I w-wasn't ready for that conversation. He amb-bushed me, in a s-sense," Shoko explained, her relief at rescue far outweighing her guilt at having purposefully avoided him once again.

Nami threw her a dirty look.

"Like he has a choice! You are impossible to pin down."

"S-sorry," Shoko mumbled.

"No, you're not, but that's okay. One should never speak before they are ready to, or they will not say what they want to say correctly," she told her. "Still, for all that I felt obligated to save you, my sympathy here lies with Tsukimori-kun. I _know, _it isn't any of my business and for all I know he's been killing your family pets and you owe him nothing – although, were that the case, I have to say I would be looking at you in a very different light; how could you make out with a _kitten killer_?" She looked briefly appalled, then shook her head. "Right, anyways, it _appears _such that a meeting with him would not be out of order. You can't dodge him forever," she pointed out. "Even if he is killing your family pets. Unless you like, got a restraining order, but . . . well, that isn't the point."

Shoko responded with a halfhearted smile, but she couldn't help the flare of irritation she felt. Yes, she was being unfair to him right now, and yes, he probably was feeling upset and thrown off-balance. And understandably so. But Nami didn't even know what Shoko was planning to say.

"Right," she murmured. "I'll t-talk to him later."

Nami surveyed her skeptically, then shrugged.

"You do that."

The ladies room door swung open then, allowing the trickle of noise in the hallway to filter through the opening, signaling the increasing traffic of students on campus. The girl who entered gave them an odd look, but said nothing, and disappeared into one of the stalls.

Nami hopped off the counter.

"I'm going, then," she announced, picking up her bookbag and pulling it over her shoulder, then lowering her voice as she continued. "You might want to wait here a second, though. I don't think he's the type to do something as creepy as wait outside the girl's bathroom, but then, you know how he is. He might not realize it's creepy. So I'll go first and let you know if it's safe."

"Thank you," Shoko said gratefully. It hadn't occurred to her that he would still be out there, but it should have. He was obviously very determined to talk to her.

Although now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure why. She could see how there might be some . . . issues, which he might _like _cleared up, but not to the point that he would so persistently pursue her. Wouldn't Len just write it off? Surely he was even less interested in talking about what had happened than she was.

But then, she wouldn't know. A few lunches spent sitting together did not by any means make her an expert. If anything, they served only to taunt her with how very out of reach Len was, how in the end he was and would remain a mystery.

So in that regard, she supposed, it served some sort of twisted justice that _he _should be the one wanting answers from _her. _

The door fell open once again, and Nami stuck her head in, giving her a thumbs-up and mouthing, "All clear!" before waving and leaving once more.

She very nearly slumped to the floor in relief. She could have hid here all day if it meant avoiding him, but playing a stressful game of hide-and-go-seek was the last thing she wanted to do right now. The conversation with Nami had alone been enough to slash her energy levels somewhere around the middle, and whatever was left would quickly be depleted by the full day still ahead of her.

Shoko picked up her bag and made her way to the door, pulling it open and joining the sparse crowd of students traversing the halls.

In the end, it did not matter. Not his reasons for talking to her, not Nami's implication that Len was the victim in this piece.

Because soon, she would speak to him, and when all was said and done, Len would have nothing to complain about.

And that would be that.

* * *

"You didn't stay to practice?" Her mother stopped in surprise when she walked into the kitchen and spotted Shoko at the breakfast bar, cheek pressed to the cool granite.

Shoko sat up and shook her head, not quite sure how to explain her presence at home.

_Sorry, Mother, I'm avoiding this boy I accidentally-on-purpose kissed on Monday, so I can't stay after school or else he'll find me. And dodging a conversation I don't want to have is, of course, more important than practicing, right?_

She regarded the shiny surface of the bar glumly, wondering if it would be in poor taste to ignore her mother and start beating her head against it.

Probably, and she did not think she could endure any behavioral criticism on this particular day.

"Is something wrong?" Kiri asked, apprehension lining her concern. A flash of irritation struck Shoko, but it passed. She understood. Her mother cared, very much, perhaps, but she had always been at a loss when it came to dealing with Shoko's issues. It frustrated her to no end that most of Shoko's problems proved insoluble. And for Shoko's part, it frustrated her because she neither wanted nor expected her mother to try and fix it. A pat on the head and a cookie would suffice. But still, Kiri insisted on relentlessly attacking the problem until all options had been exhausted.

Unfortunately, that usually meant until Shoko was exhausted, too.

She summoned a calm smile.

"N-no, Mother, I'm j-just a little tired. I th-thought I'd come and have a n-nap, and then p-practice."

Kiri's face relaxed in undisguised relief.

"Oh, well, that's fine then. I can see how you would be too stressed to sleep."

Shoko blinked. She could?

"What with exams coming up, and all."

_Oh. Right._

"Y-yes," she agreed, guilt staining her cheeks pink. She'd hardly practiced at all. She didn't dare risk going to a practice room where Len could easily find her, and what with her parents and their guest hovering around at home, the house was not a comfortable place to be either.

Somehow, she would figure something out. Just . . . not right now.

"Try to relax, though. You always make that mistake, practicing too hard and worrying too much, so that during the examination you're never at your best. I've seen you head off to school on exam day – even if they weren't to begin with, everyone else must get tense just looking at you!"

Shoko blinked. She was only now realizing that, for all her mother had touted adventure and excitement throughout the years, such things would eventually come back to bite her. And now, left to clean up the ensuing mess, she was somehow supposed to comprehend 'relaxing'?

She just stared at the wall behind her mother's head and nodded.

"Ah, well, you look tired, so I suppose I shall spare you my speech about confidence this year. For now, anyways, since it won't do for you to _never _learn," Kiri added teasingly. "In any case, if I see Eliza, I'll let her know not to make too much noise, since you're sleeping. I'm sure she's somewhere around here . . ." She sighed. "That is the downside to a large house, you know. Your guests can literally go exploring, perhaps never to return."

Shoko managed a half-hearted laugh, but nothing more.

"O-okay. I'm going, then, M-mother," she mumbled, and quit the room in a hurry, hoping that would be the last of questions for a while. She was beginning to tire of them, whether they were from her mother or Miss Cavendish or her friends.

She wasn't sure which was more exhausting; answering them, or avoiding them.

Either way, she was very much looking forward to her nap.

* * *

"Shoko-chan!"

Shoko cast a wary gaze in Miss Cavendish's direction, mildly suspicious of her enthusiasm, particularly since it was being directed at her.

"H-hello, Miss Cavend-dish," she greeted her. "How a-are you?"

"Very well, thank you! How was your nap? You poor thing, you must have overworked yourself."

_It's like people have a sixth sense, and they simply enjoy tormenting me._

"N-not exactly," she murmured. "It w-was pleasant, though. I f-feel much b-better. Thank you f-for asking."

"Of course," she said. "I'd hoped to talk with you some more, so it's in my best interest if you are well-rested."

She smiled, and somehow, Shoko suddenly felt very threatened. All of the straight white teeth in that smile seemed to take on an unnatural gleam.

She gulped.

"I-is that s-so? What ab-bout?" she inquired as nonchalantly as she could, although the whole situation was setting off alarm bells.

"Oh, this and that."

_This and that? _she wondered incredulously. _This and that? What does that MEAN?_

"O-oh, I see," she mumbled noncommittally. She'd already said too much during their conversation yesterday, having been caught in a weak moment, and she had no desire to repeat the mistake to an even greater degree, regardless of Miss Cavendish's plans. Avoiding her should be simple, though, what with her mother hovering at every turn.

"Kiri is out at a meeting," Miss Cavendish informed her cheerily, as if having read her mind.

A chill ran down Shoko's spine. She was alone and completely at Miss Cavendish's mercy. And Miss Cavendish . . . well, Miss Cavendish was the sort that could get a person to talk, whether the woman had to charm it out of them or browbeat them into spilling their guts, and Shoko could tell.

"What is that expression? I was just hoping you would keep me company," she explained.

Her words reassured Shoko enough that she took a seat on the parlor's loveseat.

"Of c-course, I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to of-fend you."

Miss Cavendish primly perched herself on the edge of the ottoman, waving her hand dismissively. The lacy cuff of her shirt shook around her tiny wrist, and Shoko marveled as she skillfully arranged herself in such a way that every fold of her billowing sleeve immediately settled into neat, artful perfection.

She knew that, had she been the one wearing it, she would either rumple it terribly or just straight out trip over it. It seemed unlikely, tripping over one's shirtsleeves, but if anyone could do it . . .

"What is school like in Japan?" she asked abruptly.

Shoko blinked.

_It's . . . school, _she thought, just as Miss Cavendish wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, that was a silly question. You haven't attended school anywhere else, so . . . ah, nevermind. Instead, _how _is school?"

The question gave her pause. She had hardly been thinking of school lately, although she was usually very meticulous about her studies. For one, there had not exactly been much else to entertain, but mostly, she hated feeling incompetent or ill-prepared. And so she was mildly obsessive about ensuring she was ready for whatever academics happened to throw at her.

But recently? Academics hardly even crossed her mind.

_I should probably learn to balance school and my social life, _she thought ruefully, _but the latter should not be an issue soon._

And life as she had known it would resume.

"School is f-fine . . ."

Miss Cavendish quirked an eyebrow.

"I see. What are you up to in school lately, aside from the exams?"

"Uh," she stalled. She hoped Miss Cavendish meant what she was learning. There was not a snowball's chance in hell that she would share details of her other activities, but then, she was probably just being paranoid after the last couple of days.

She could feel the blush crawling up her neck.

"W-well, right now, everyone is f-focused on p-practicing. Other studies are imp-portant, of course, but s-since so many of us h-hope to have a career i-in music, our best ef-fort is g-generally put forth in that s-subject," she explained in a rush, hoping to divert her own thoughts from that dangerous path.

Miss Cavendish smiled.

"And?"

"And w-what?"

"School isn't just about an education. Or rather it is, but it isn't only about your technical education."

"Th-there's not really anything of i-interest," she said hastily.

"Aw," she said, grinning. "That's too bad."

She paused, picking at her skirt.

"I didn't attend secondary school, so I always like to talk to teenagers about it. I received my education at home for those four years, since my Grandmother was sick. I wanted to be there. Which was silly, in hindsight. Being there didn't do any good, and it isn't like I was an integral part of her care. We had people for that, and I was still occupied with my studies. But . . . it reassured me somehow."

"Oh . . . I'm s-sorry to hear that. Is she w-well now, or . . ." she trailed off, hoping she was not amiss in asking. She just wasn't sure what to say.

"Ah, no . . . she passed away the summer after I graduated," Miss Cavendish explained. There was sadness in her face, the kind of subtle, resigned ache that remained after all of the initial, violent emotions of grief had subsided.

"I'm s-so sorry," Shoko said quietly.

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling. "Anyways, I don't regret staying at home. It's just interesting to me because I did, I guess. I'm not really sure why I find it so fascinating," she admitted. "Lots of the kids I talk to assure me I did not miss anything good."

Miss Cavendish had already started laughing before Shoko realized she was nodding fervently in agreement.

"S-s-sorry," she stammered. "I wish I c-could tell you something w-wildly entert-taining, but . . . you p-probably have more interesting s-stories than I d-do." Besides, even if she were to tell the truth, her angsty little crush on Len was hardly entertaining, or even of interest, to anyone who wasn't her. Or who wasn't bored in school and had nothing else to talk about it. Whichever.

At any rate, she was trying to remind herself that in the grand scheme of things this incident was completely insignificant. She was hoping it would help. It hadn't so far, but that could change.

"Maybe, maybe not. Really, all my stories are just those I've been told. I don't have very many of my own. Besides, it doesn't have to be wildly entertaining. Few things in life are such by their own nature. It's usually up to oneself whether one enjoys it or not. I, for instance, am easily amused. Probably _too_ easily amused, but I digress."

Shoko smiled.

"W-well . . . as long as you're h-having fun, right? Still . . . I d-don't even have other p-people's stories."

"What about your parents?" she asked. "I can't believe they don't tell you any."

"They d-do," she said. "But . . . e-even then, I don't h-have anyone to t-tell them to." Normally, she might be embarrassed by the words, might have thought better than to say them. In this instance though, it seemed they were being honest here, and besides which, any humiliation she might have felt was cast aside in favor of the pang of sadness that hit her instead.

She'd told a few stories to Len. She hadn't minded using her parents stories, if only so she could catch a glimpse of that rare smile. And she had seen it, on several occasions, and she had been grateful that she had those stories to tell.

Miss Cavendish misinterpreted the solemn cast to her face.

"Don't look so sad, you will," she reassured her. "It's true, there might be times in your life when you are alone. And they will be hard. Ask anyone who has been, and they'll tell you, there are few things worse than being alone.

"But it won't last forever. I don't see how it could," she added. "It seems like _everyone_ is looking for someone . . . so we have to find each other eventually, right?"

Shoko looked up sharply. Miss Cavendish's words sounded like a hopeful musing she herself wanted to believe in, rather than an empty reassurance for the pitiable adolescent without friends.

"And d-did you? Find s-someone?"

Miss Cavendish smiled. "I did. I found lots of people, to varying degrees."

Shoko paused, considering this.

"Someh-how, that makes it s-sound like you're still al-lone," she said, and Miss Cavendish laughed.

"Weeks-long house parties are not an unusual occurrence at my house. I am almost never alone," she assured her.

"B-by yourself, maybe," Shoko corrected, decidedly unconvinced. "But you m-must know you c-can still b-be alone, even in a-a crowd."

"Mm, perhaps," she mused, leaning back and propping herself up on her hands. "But, it is still better to be alone in a crowd. How will other people find you, and vice versa, if you are alone by yourself?" She chuckled, and added, "As confusing as that sounds."

"Oh," Shoko said, at a loss. She hadn't thought of it like that. It wasn't that people had not told her some variation of that before - _Shoko, how do you expect to make friends if you don't put yourself out there and try? - _but, to put it bluntly, she'd always thought they were full of it. No one had ever acknowledged that one could very well put oneself out there and still achieve no result. Instead, they had either implied or outright stated that if she met no success, she wasn't trying hard enough.

Miss Cavendish, however, seemed to theorize that it was perfectly acceptable, even normal, to be alone for some time before you found the right people, and they found you.

And, that it was alright to be out there alone. One did not have to continuously throw oneself into becoming outgoing and sociable, but nor did one have to go to the other extreme when met with failure, and purposefully isolate oneself. Shoko could, simply, just _be. _If she happened upon one of those people she was naturally seeking, then that was that. If not, then so be it. She could still enjoy watching the swirl of people moving around her, and stay in sight for whomever might be looking.

_I need not declare it a permanent failure and condemn myself to loneliness._

It was a truth she had been told before, one she had caught sight of now again but never actually grasped until now. After all this time, it finally sank in and secured itself smoothly and matter-of-factly, and she took it with a sort of serene acceptance as if it made perfect sense.

And it did - even though it never had before. She couldn't say why the philosophy finally clicked into place, why she could understand and accept it when variations of the concept had depressed or frustrated her so thoroughly before. Had something changed, or was it some mysterious aspect of Miss Cavendish's particular character and demeanor which made her more receptive? A combination?

For whatever reason, it had. Possibly - no, probably - she would lose sight of it again, when things were hard, but not for long. Not in the way it had eluded her prior to this point.

"Take your parents, for instance," Miss Cavendish offered, mistaking Shoko's contemplative silence for one of confusion.

Shoko blinked, feeling vaguely surprised to find herself still here with Miss Cavendish.

"My p-parents evid-dently 'found' each other in a d-dark alley," she cut in dryly.

Miss Cavendish grinned and wrinkled her nose.

"I would rephrase that in unfamiliar company," she advised. "As it is, it makes the whole affair sound somewhat unsavory."

Shoko laughed.

"Really, though, w-wasn't it?" she pointed out. "After all, M-mother had been c-cornered by some deg-generate." The thought nearly made her shudder.

"Yes, but if you put it that way everyone will think your _father _was the degenerate," she clarified. After a brief pause, she added, "And depending on their interpretation, possibly that your mother was, too."

Shoko looked startled.

"B-both of them? Why on earth w-would _two _people b-be in a dark alley of their o-own volition? If th-there's no one else there t-to hurt or, p-perhaps steal from, I c-can't think what bad things they c-could get up t-to there."

Miss Cavendish froze.

"Er," she started. "They could . . . uh, they could be doing graffiti."

"Mother _is _q-quite good with art," Shoko agreed thoughtfully. "Then I'll r-remember to be c-clear on the details, should I e-ever retell the s-story."

Miss Cavendish nodded in relieved agreement.

"I didn't know Kiri dabbled in the arts. It makes sense, though; she is very creative and has a good eye. I don't mean it unkindly, but I can certainly tell which of your parents had a hand in what decor."

Shoko grinned, thinking fondly of her father's study, not that anyone aside from him could work there without becoming distracted by its interior.

"She s-sketches, and does waterc-colors," she explained. "And she d-draws shoes in her d-daybook. Wild sh-shoes, the kind m-most people will never h-have occasion to wear. They're very p-pretty, though," she added wistfully. She'd forgotten about the shoes, actually. She assumed her mother still drew them, but Kiri hadn't shown any to her in years.

She suddenly caught the wispy tail of a memory, some vague recollection of a boring plane ride and her mother handing her a page of shoes and the notebook which contained them, telling her to imagine dresses to match them. And then she had, but not on the paper. She'd shut the book without a word and turned to the window, eyes to the sky while her mind composed delicate atrocities in lemon yellow and taffeta.

In hindsight, her mother had probably assumed she was being ignored.

It made sense that she would eventually stop showing a seemingly unresponsive Shoko the crazy, intricate, entirely nonsensical shoes she doodled on her notes.

"_Really_? She never mentioned any of that. But, upon reflection, Kiri's more interested in other people than herself." She laughed. "Not just people - things, too. She might wish I didn't say this, but I've caught her talking to things more than once, when she's alone."

"T-talking to things?" Shoko felt inexplicably guilty all of the sudden.

"Yes. A lampshade, a figurine, a cue - it's fascinating to see. I suppose Kiri-chan really can communicate with anything or anyone," she added, and Shoko let her words sink in with wide eyes. She tried to remember farther back, searching for some picture or audio with which to compare Miss Cavendish's description, but she couldn't. She remembered her mother was there more often when she was very young, but for some reason she remained in the periphery of all Shoko's memories, so vibrant and yet somehow so vague.

Certainly, Shoko could not recall an instance of this recently.

"I see," she murmured, somewhat disappointed.

"She and Haru-kun suit each other well, in that regard. I didn't speak with him as much, but it seemed to me he's only . . . randomly social, if that makes any sense. Very clever and engaging, but abruptly so, as he is mostly quiet."

Shoko smiled a little.

"Th-that sounds like m-my father."

"Oh," Miss Cavendish exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, you don't need me to tell you what your parents are like. This must be boring."

"Not at a-all, Miss C-cavendish. It's . . . I th-think it's interesting t-to hear a-about them from an-nother perspective."

"I'm relieved, then," she said, smiling. "You should be very proud of them. They are lovely, lovely people."

Shoko returned the smile hesitantly. She knew her parents were lovely. She knew she was loved, and regardless of their time away from home, she could not complain for lack of affection. But some of that sparkle, that loveliness that so captivated others, she somehow struggled to perceive it firsthand, as if there was some distance muddling both parties' true selves.

Miss Cavendish sighed and ran her fingers through a few loose curls.

"Really - I say they're ridiculous, but I'm very envious. I'm about the age they are when they married, yet I can't even imagine being so comfortable and compatible with someone. They complement each other so well, you know?"

Shoko tried to dispel the sharp pain in her chest at that. She was aware how well they complemented one another, how close they were. And she, a rather awkward fit compared to that impressive union, had disrupted their harmonious relationship. She'd long suspected there was a reason they had had only one child, and that reason surely lay in the disappointment of their first.

She became aware of the moments passing since Miss Cavendish had spoken, and she brushed those thoughts away, feeling abruptly rude.

"Th-they do," she agreed, when a new thought struck her. "But they were s-so young w-when they wed. If I m-may ask, h-how old are you, M-miss Cavend-dish?"

"Twenty," she replied succinctly.

"T-twenty? But you . . . th-that is, you d-don't look _old,_ but I-I thought you to be more around t-wenty-seven. You're s-so . . . poised. I c-can't think _I _will be so g-graceful in a mere f-four years," she added, marveling at the unexpectedly small difference in their ages.

"I don't know," Miss Cavendish interjected thoughtfully. "Four years might go by quickly, but in many ways it is a long time. In the end, it all depends on how you spend it."

They fell into silence for a time, as Shoko mulled over these words, wondering how, indeed, she would spend them.

But the future was still murky and shapeless in her mind, and she suspected it would take more than a few vague forays into its depths to accurately divine its contents.

Soon, though. Somehow, even feeling divided and scattered as she did, she couldn't help but sense the pieces rearranging with some hope of fitting together once again. Not long from now, she might have an answer. Maybe not the right one, and certainly not the best one, but it would be a start. And, as she was finally beginning to comprehend, one needed to start somewhere in order to get somewhere.

Which left her with the next question: Where did she hope to go?


End file.
